


Desperate Measures

by SylvieW



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A/B/O verse, Alive Hale Family, Alpha Derek, Angst, Dubious Consent, Endgame Sterek, Happy Ending, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Stiles, Omegaverse, Pregnancy, Questionable ethics, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-18 11:36:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11873547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvieW/pseuds/SylvieW
Summary: Alone and away from his pack on an international business trip, Derek finds company in a local omega. He didn't realize that Stiles' desperation--and the outdated laws of his country--would turn their one night stand into so much more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go! My beta team is back! Thanks again to [ChloeWeird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeWeird) for her hard work. 
> 
> Keep in mind as you're reading this that Stiles for sure made a bad decision but it is endgame Sterek, so if you don't think he should be forgiven, this will not be your cup of tea. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

********* 

The first thing Peter told Derek about Estlovia was not to trust the locals. The second was not to trust the booze. The third piece of wisdom he imparted was “Let me do the talking.” He wasn’t really sure _why_ Peter had even insisted Derek come on this business trip. This was their second day of negotiations for the contract, and Derek felt like he was just decorating the room. Derek was only two years out of college, but he’d worked hard in those two years. He managed the contracts he was given well, and he supported Peter or his mother or Laura whenever they needed him. So if he _wasn’t_ needed, why shouldn’t he be home getting actual work done?

Derek wasn’t a big fan of travelling. He liked his own bed, in his own apartment, with his own pack nearby. The only people he knew here were Peter and a couple of his lackeys. Since they were off wining and dining with clients, Derek felt painfully alone. Usually, he’d call one of his many family members to pass the time and feel the connection of his pack. But he couldn’t quite figure out what the time difference was between here and California, and he didn’t want to wake anyone up. Usually he’d google it, but the hotel’s wifi was shit, just like the rest of its amenities. 

“Another?” The bartender asked, gesturing to his glass of whiskey.

One saving grace Derek had found was that most of the locals he’d come across spoke English. He’d asked Peter about it, but Peter had said flippantly, “They speak lots of things. Don’t listen to any of it.”

That didn’t actually give Derek much more information about the citizens of the country he was spending the next two weeks in. “No, thank you, but a water would be nice,” Derek said. She swiftly disappeared his glass and replaced it with a clean one and a bottle of Perrier. Derek slid a bill across the table and hoped it was a high enough tip. The money system here was nothing like American dollars, inflation having climbed to a ridiculous level. Just one more thing to leave him feeling out of his depth.

“That’s a deep look for an empty glass.”

Derek jumped a little at the voice so close to his ear. He locked eyes with sparkling amber irises. The boy next to him had a puckish grin on a sinful mouth. His face was not far from the fullness of childhood, but the spark in his eye was far from innocent. His upturned nose and dimples said “cute and elfish” while his raised eyebrow said, “devilish.”

“Don’t you like your drink?” he asked.

If Derek’s nose was right, this was an omega. And his nose had never failed him before. “It’s just water,” Derek said, and held back a wince at his own awkwardness. The boy’s scent was distracting, and the way he smiled made it hard to think, let alone flirt.

“I see.” He slid onto the stool next to him. “And are you scowling at it because you don’t want it to be water?”

“No, I… I ordered it,” Derek said lamely. He wasn’t about to tell a perfect stranger that his uncle had warned him to stay sober.

“Then you must be scowling for another reason, Mr...” The omega quirked his eyebrow again.

“Hale,” Derek supplied quickly, offering his hand to shake. “Derek Hale. And you?”

“You can call me Stiles,” he said. His handshake was firm, but it lingered a moment too long to be businesslike.

“Stiles,” Derek said. “I can call you that, but it’s not your name?”

Stiles laughed. “You can’t pronounce my name.”

“You don’t know that,” Derek said.

“Mieczyslaw Stilinski,” Stiles said. 

Derek rolled the name around in his mind and on his tongue. “You’re right, I can’t say that.”

Stiles laughed, and Derek found him fascinating to watch. His whole body moved with joy, and his face lit up. “Stiles is fine. Most people call me that anyway.”

“Why?” Derek asked.

Stiles told him the story of his best friend moving to Estlovia and knowing absolutely none of the language. When the word for _fork_ was a challenge, a name like Mieczyslaw had brought him to tears. While Scott was fluent in the language now, it had become a habit in their youth that had never really gone away. 

“He’s pack now,” Stiles said. “He and his mom.” Stiles’ expression became closed off for a moment, then he brightened again. “Tell me about your pack.”

“Mine?” Derek was never really sure how to describe the Hale pack. They were all overbearing and headstrong, always getting into each other's business and throwing themselves into things with all their passion, regardless of the consequences. Derek adored them. 

Rather than list the members of his pack, Derek told Stiles about how the board of directors for Hale & Co. had been certain that the long line of Hale matriarchs would end with Talia, until Laura had become their mother’s successor while their older brother Bennett had become a painter. He talked about his father’s garden, and Cora’s trips across the globe, despite her youth.

“She looks for plants all over the world,” Derek explained. “I think it makes her feel closer to him, since he…” Derek cut off. A stranger didn’t want to hear about his father’s death.

Stiles nodded. “My mother too.”

There was always an ache of absence when Derek thought about his father, and it made it so hard to speak about. Usually, when people tried to relate to him and his loss, Derek just felt irritated, but Stiles spoke with a quiet grief that matched his own. Neither of them tried to put it into words, they didn’t need to.

The more Derek talked to Stiles, the less homesick he was. The intoxicated way he felt had nothing to do with the water he was drinking and everything to do with the omega beside him, slowly getting closer with each story they shared. Stiles used his hands to talk, and every time he touched Derek, the heat of his hand felt like fire.

The bar was packed around them, and if Stiles got any closer, he’d be in Derek’s lap. Derek wouldn’t really mind that. “It’s getting crowded in here.” Stiles said, so close to Derek’s ear that his mouth brushed against the shell of it. 

Derek shivered, and all he could do was nod.

“You could take me up to your room so we can keep talking,” Stiles said. “Or not talking…” He added, putting his hand high enough on Derek’s thigh to make his point clear.

“Yeah?” Derek weighed his choices. He wasn’t often into one night stands, but the thought of going back to his empty, unfamiliar hotel room alone was daunting. His mind briefly went to Peter’s warnings, but he was perfectly sober. What could go wrong?   
“Let’s go.”

Stiles stuck close to his side while they navigated out of the hotel bar. There was no one else in the elevator, so no one to stop Derek from backing Stiles against the wall and plundering that gorgeous mouth of his until they reached his floor. Derek fumbled with his keycard and started stripping the second they got into the room.

Stiles hesitated for a moment before muttering a quick word in Estlovian and following suit. 

Derek had absolutely no idea what that word meant, because he didn’t speak a speck of Estlovian. Stiles said it a lot though. It was mumbled repeatedly when Derek laid him out on the bed and explored every inch of skin he could reach with his hands and his mouth. Derek couldn’t get enough of the soft pale skin. Stiles’ body was as riddled with moles as his face was, and Derek found he liked plotting them out, finding each one. He wondered what it would be like to memorize them, but he cut that thought off. That wasn’t what this was.

The word made a few appearances when Derek fingered Stiles open. It slipped out between moans and sighs that Derek would rather listen to than any symphony in the world. He wondered if the word meant something like “more”, or “harder”, “Or fuck, yes, right there.” But he didn’t ask. Really Stiles could be saying “God save the Queen,” and Derek would be just as turned on. 

Derek didn’t think that was the case though, because when Stiles slid the condom he’d retrieved from his jeans over Derek’s cock, he said it again, and it was so goddamn heartfelt Derek almost stopped to ask what it meant. But the temptation of sinking into Stiles was too much, and he captured Stiles’ mouth in another kiss instead.

Stiles couldn’t say anything at all while Derek was fucking him, but if their places were reversed, Derek would have been at a loss for words too. He could feel his knot itching to swell, but he hadn’t talked to Stiles about that, so he pushed down the urge and focused on getting Stiles off instead. 

“Come on,” Stiles said, locking his legs around Derek’s waist. “Please, I need-- Please, knot me.”

With no reason to hold back anymore, Derek’s knot locked into place so rapidly, Derek felt light headed. Stiles tensed under him, the sudden invasion too much for him, so Derek doubled his efforts to make Stiles come. 

That turned out pretty well because Stiles came so hard he cried. After finding his own release, Derek nuzzled into Stiles’ neck, mumbling whatever he could think of to soothe him. He could barely think straight from the aftershocks of his orgasm, but it was worth it from the way Stiles wrapped around him, and held on tight until they both fell asleep.

***

Derek had never been arrested in his life. He’d been raised in an upper-middle-class family, he always had great control, and his idea of rebellion had been dying his hair purple. (Only once. It really hadn’t suited him.) And yet, when he was approached in the hotel lobby by two Estlovian police officers, he instantly panicked. His heart raced, and sweat coated his skin as they politely asked, “Is one of you Derek Hale?”

Peter dismissed the men they’d already been saying goodbye to for the last ten minutes and stepped closer to Derek. (Derek hated business goodbyes. There was so much handshaking and posturing, how long was he supposed to talk about golfing before he could go get actual work done?)

“I’m Derek,” he said, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt.

One of the officers handed him a folder. “You know where City Hall is? You’ll need to be there tomorrow by 10. Have a good day.” With a nod, the officers went on their way.

Peter looked at the folder with disdain and sighed. “Derek. Did you fuck a local?”

“What?” Derek stared wide-eyed at his uncle.

Peter rubbed his eyes. “Did you have sex with an Estlovian omega?” 

Derek didn’t really see what that had to do with the file in his hands. “Yes.”

“You’re so screwed,” one of Peter’s lackeys crowed.

“Shut up, Greenberg,” Derek snarled.

“Yes, shut up. Put your big mouth to use getting Henry on the phone.” Peter pushed Greenberg away. It didn’t bode well that just from seeing the folder Peter wanted the family lawyer. “Derek, I told you not to trust them.”

“I didn’t!” Derek insisted. Trusting someone was far different from sleeping with them. “And I didn’t get drunk either.”

“Oh, so you were a sober idiot?” Peter drawled.

“Fuck off.” Derek spun away from his uncle, intent on getting to his hotel room.

“Derek, don’t.” Peter caught his arm. “I’m sorry. I’m just pissed off. I should have explained further, I just didn’t think you would get involved with anyone. It’s not usually your style. Derek, do you know what’s in that folder?”

“No.” Derek stared at the official Estlovian crest on the front with mounting dread. 

“It’s a summons,” Peter said. “That omega you slept with is pregnant.”

“No,” Derek sputtered. “No, we used a condom, we--” Memories of being buried in Stiles, holding him close as they were locked together came unbidden to mind.

“Did you supply the condom or did he?” Peter asked. The answer must have shown on his face because Peter shook his head. “It was most likely already tampered with.”

Derek looked between the folder and his uncle. “I don’t understand. Why would he do something like that?”

“Well, according to the Estlovian laws, if you impregnate an omega, you’re as good as mated,” Peter explained. “Omegas don’t have a lot of rights here. What they're allowed to do is pretty much dependent on what their alpha permits. A high percentage of them don’t get any education past age 13, which limits what jobs they can have, _if_ their alpha allows them to look for one. So, if they get a new alpha, especially one who’s not from here, it might improve their life significantly. I guess he was looking to get married.”

“What the fuck?” Derek pushed shaking hands through his hair. “I can’t be mated to him, we--I--we spent one evening together, Peter, he was gone before I even woke up.”

“I know,” Peter said, putting a comforting hand on Derek’s shoulders. 

“They don’t know the baby is mine,” Derek said. “If he had a one night stand with me--” Derek broke off because Peter was shaking his head.

“They don’t care. As long as the omega claims that you're the father, that’s it,” Peter said. “We might be able to get a DNA test further down the road, but he’s only, what, a week along?”

“Nearly two.” He’d been in this godforsaken country almost two weeks. “So, now we’re mated or married or whatever. We can fix it, can’t we?”

“We can try,” Peter said. “But the laws here are ridiculous. I guess they had a problem a few decades ago with foreigners coming and knocking up omegas only to leave them high and dry, so they set up laws that overcompensate.”

Derek’s stomach roiled with dread. “What does that mean?”

“It means that, as his alpha, you’re now responsible for him and his whole pack.” Peter took the folder from him and started flipping through it. “It looks small. Just the omega and three others.”

“Responsible how?” Derek prompted.

Peter snapped the folder closed with an irritated shrug. “You have to provide for them, Derek. Food, shelter, education. Depends on what the hell they want.”

Derek cursed. “This is blackmail.”

“Pretty much,” Peter said. Greenberg was coming back toward them, arm outstretched with a phone in hand. “I’ll talk to Henry, see what we can do.”

Derek nodded, torn between righteous anger and a numbness that threatened to take over his senses. Derek had been out of sorts since he’d got on the plane, and his night with Stiles had been the only reprieve from the homesickness he’d felt. He’d tried not to take it too hard when he’d woken up alone. Stiles hadn’t promised him anything, and he’d be leaving soon himself. He'd assumed at best he’d see Stiles again at the hotel bar, but more than likely their paths would never meet again.

It had never crossed his mind that Stiles would trick him, and while he’d wanted to see him again, he didn’t want to be permanently responsible and stuck with a guy he barely knew.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. They went to Peter’s hotel room, and were on the phone pretty much non-stop, trying to stop this from happening.

He called his mother around midnight, grateful when Peter informed him it was mid-afternoon back home. 

“So, they think the baby is yours?” she asked, voice not betraying her thoughts on the matter.

“Yeah,” Derek said hoarsely.

“And is it?”

“Probably,” Derek said. “I mean I definitely-- I thought-- Yeah, probably.”

“Well, until they can do a paternity test, I think we need to operate under the assumption that it's yours.”

Derek felt like his heart was being stabbed by an icicle. The prospect of his first child was supposed to fill him with joy, not dread. “Yeah.”

“Derek, you know if you want Henry to push for you to have nothing to do with the baby, we’ll all be behind you,” his mother said quietly. “Derek, is that what you want?”

Derek closed his eyes and thought hard for a moment. He was so fucking angry that he even had to make this decision, but… 

“No.” 

Pack was pack. If that baby was his, then he’d damn well do his best to give it all the love he could.

“Alright.” Derek thought he heard a little relief in Talia’s voice. “Well, then, you’ll want the baby close. So, we’ll have Henry push to have the test done as soon as safely possible. If the baby’s yours, the omega will have to come here. Henry said the absurd laws that god-forsaken country have in place guarantee a fast-track visa for them.”

“Do you know how long--?” Derek broke off. What the hell would his mother know about paternity tests.

“Seven or eight weeks.”

Then again…

“Derek, I do know how to use google,” Talia said, her voice fond.

“Right. The internet has been shit here, I haven’t really been able to look up anything.”

“You’ll be home soon.”

“Not soon enough.” Business trips didn’t usually take so long, but they didn’t plan on coming back to Estlovia anytime soon, so they’d wanted to make the most of their trip. Derek couldn’t wait to be back in his own space. This was the last travelling he’d be doing for a while. 

***

The office they were ushered into at city hall was just as bleak and ill-kept as the rest of the country. Mr. Billis, the worker assigned to their case, filled out the paperwork between snide comments. He looked at Stiles with such disdain that Derek almost felt bad for him. Until he remembered why they were there.

Derek was exhausted, having gotten very little sleep the night before, so he was grateful that Peter had come with him. He advocated for the paternity test, and in the event that it matched Derek, that Stiles move to California.

“A paternity test is reasonable,” Mr. Billis said, nodding as he sneered at Stiles. “Omegas will open their legs for anyone.”

Stiles didn’t say anything. His face was completely blank, and he held himself rigidly. Derek didn’t really _know_ Stiles, but he saw absolutely nothing of the person from the night they’d met.

When the discussion moved to California, Stiles chewed at his thumbnail. “We could just leave sooner.”

“No need to go all the way to America just to find out you’re a whore,” Mr. Billis said.

“I’m not--” Stiles broke off and sighed, closing his eyes briefly. “7 weeks.”

“As soon as the test comes back, you can book plane tickets,” Mr. Billis said, scratching away at the forms with a drying pen.

“And my pack,” Stiles prompted.

Mr. Billis gave a put upon sigh. “Your pack is established here--”

“You can’t split us up.” Stiles tapped at one of the papers on the table. “There’s a law. It says if it would cause the omega undue distress--”

“Everything under the sun stresses omegas--”

“--It’s an alpha’s responsibility to ensure they’re all kept together, and provided for,” Stiles said. “It’s the law.”

Mr. Billis curled his lip and looked to Peter.

Stiles turned his big brown eyes on Derek. “We’re really small, there’s only four of us and--”

“Whatever,” Derek said, looking away. It didn’t matter to him if he was supporting Stiles’ pack in Estlovia or at home. It was an imposition either way. If Stiles was going to be invading his space, then what difference did three more make?

“ _If_ the paternity test comes back to Derek, then all four pack members will be brought over,” Peter said. “If.”

Stiles was mollified by that, and returned to doing his best impression of a stone statue. Derek’s skin itched to leave, but he had to sit through the rest of the paperwork. Peter made arrangements for the results to be sent to Henry, and collected Stiles’ contact information while they waited for Mr. Billis to finish. Peter also insisted on reading every form in full before he let Derek sign it. That was probably for the best, but Derek just wanted to go.

In less than an hour, they were outside in the hot summer air, and Derek was staring at his _mate_. This stranger was his husband.

“So, I guess I’ll see you in a few weeks,” Stiles said.

“We’ll see.” Peter didn’t bother looking up from his phone.

Stiles finally looked at Derek, and he said that word again. The strange syllables he’d uttered again and again that night.

“Don’t,” Derek snapped, then he turned on his heel and walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

***

It came by mail. Derek had nearly convinced himself that this nightmare couldn’t possibly be real. Back home in sunny California surrounded by his family, it was easy to forget about the bleak hell of Estlovia and everything that went along with it. But in mid-August, the paternity results arrived in a slim package.

Derek was going to be a father.

Peter took care of the details, trading emails back and forth with Stiles to organize plane tickets and last minute passport approvals.

Only two weeks after the letter arrived, Stiles and his pack followed.

The airport was crowded and bustling as always. Derek waited at the gate, reading the arrivals board, again and again, to ensure he had the right flight.

“Almost here,” Laura said, patting his arm. She’d insisted on driving him to pick them up, and despite his protests, Derek was grateful. She kept patting his arm reassuringly, but she also kept reminding him they’d be here soon, and Derek wasn’t ready.

He’d done what he could to get ready, sorting out where they’d all stay and so forth, but there was nothing more he could do to emotionally prepare. He didn’t want these people in his house, didn’t want to be dealing with _him_.

“There, people are coming out now,” Laura pointed out. “What’s he look like?”

Derek’s panic increased. Did he remember what Stiles’ looked like? They’d only met twice, what if Derek didn’t recognize him? He’d never met his pack at all, had only seen their names on forms, so that would be no help. Stiles could walk right past him and Derek wouldn’t even know.

“Derek?” Laura probed quietly. “Are you alright?”

Maybe Derek should have brought a sign or something. Other people had them, names written out for the people streaming off the plane to find. There was a family in the corner with giant colourful welcome home banners. Derek hoped that Stiles’ and his pack didn’t expect a warm greeting like that.

“Do you see them?” Laura asked, tucking her arm through his to stand even closer.

“No, I don’t--” Derek broke off as Stiles appeared. Of course Derek recognized him. The moment he saw him he remembered it all, his nose, eyes, hair, height, hips-- 

He didn’t want to remember that.

“There,” he gestured vaguely for Laura, who waved. Stiles caught sight of them and turned to a brown haired boy next to them and pointed. The boy waved frantically, and Laura chuckled.

As soon as the boy reached them, he held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Scott McCall. It’s so great to meet you. You’re Derek, right? You look just like Stiles said.” Scott smiled at Laura. “I don’t know who you are.”

“Derek’s sister, Laura,” she said, accepting his handshake.

“Great,” Scott said. “This is my mom, Melissa.” He gestured to the curly-haired woman just behind him. “And this is Stiles’ dad.”

“John Stilinski,” the man said, offering his own hand.

“Hello.” Laura looked between the three of them. “And Stiles is…”

“He’s right--” Scott turned around. “Oh.” They all followed his gaze to where Stiles was retching in a garbage can. “He’s pretty sick from the plane.”

“He’s sick because he’s pregnant, Scott,” John said tightly. “Go tell him we shouldn’t keep the Hales waiting.”

Scott rushed over to Stiles and presumably relayed the message. Stiles nodded, wiped his mouth and turned to walk over. Then he spun back around to puke again. Scott shot worried looks between Stiles and their group.

“Oh, dear,” Laura said. 

John frowned deeply at his son and Melissa patted his arm. “Just give him a minute. We can start collecting the luggage while we wait.”

The Stilinski-McCall pack had a large suitcase each. Some of their other things had already arrived at Derek’s place, but the rest had only been shipped just before they’d left and would take some time to arrive.

Scott and Stiles caught up with them as they pulled the last bag off the baggage claim.

“Thanks,” Scott said, taking his bag from his mom.

Stiles silently claimed his own suitcase. Derek couldn’t remember if he’d always been so pale.

Laura focused her welcome on Stiles. “Hi, I’m Laura.”

Stiles offered her a weak smile in return.

John said something quick and rough in Estlovian. Stiles frowned and Melissa shook her head and said, “Let’s get out of this airport, hm? It feels like we’ve been traveling for days.”

“We have been,” Stiles said quietly. He hefted his suitcase up and nearly toppled over.

Laura elbowed Derek hard in the ribs, and looked pointedly at the bag. Derek shook his head. Laura’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she offered graciously, “Here, Stiles, let me help you with that.”

“I got it,” Stiles said, but he was clearly struggling with the weight. “You can help my dad, though.”

“Stiles, really, let me help,” Laura said, trying to take the handle from him.

“No, it’s fine, Dad’s is much heavier,” Stiles said, backing away from her.

John tsked. “No, it isn’t. Laura, we’re fine.”

“Stiles is not fine,” Melissa said calmly. “And I’m not confident you are either.”

“Well, then, we can help.” Laura glared so hard at Derek he would have felt like a tool if he'd resisted. He quickly took John’s case from him and marched toward the door. Only then did Stiles’ relinquish his luggage to Laura.

Between the bags and the passengers it was a tight fit to get everyone into the van. Stiles and Scott took the backseat, the luggage piled between them. Stiles rested his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes as soon as the van started moving.

Derek didn’t really feel like making conversation and was grateful that Laura and the McCalls seemed happy enough to do it for him. Melissa asked about where they lived and who was in their pack, and Laura politely answered. John listened with little input of his own.

Most of Scott’s contributions were along the lines of “Stiles, did you see how tall that building was?” and “Stiles, look at the water, that’s the Pacific ocean!”

Derek didn’t really see why that would be so exciting after spending 14 hours hurtling over the Atlantic ocean.

If Stiles opened his eyes at all for the two hour car ride, Derek didn’t see it. He kept his face pressed against the glass, and his only responses to Scott’s enthusiasm were a hum or a whimper. 

“Here we are,” Laura said brightly as Derek pulled into the parking lot of his building.

The Hales had been one of the founding families of Beacon Hills. Their great grandmother had made a name for herself with canned peaches. Generations later, the Hales had an international canning empire. From pickles to fish to preserves, they canned everything, and they did it well enough to be leaders in their industry.

The building where Derek lived had been a warehouse twenty years ago, but it had outgrown it's usefulness as bigger, improved facilities had been built. The building was sound, and the Hales had decided to try their hand at real estate. The ground floor had tenants, the second floor had Laura and her fiance Matthew on one side and Erica and Boyd living on the other. The top floor had been Derek’s alone. Until now.

Derek would have prefered to just buy a house and put the Stilinski-McCalls in it, far away from him, but his mother had convinced him that he’d want to be closer to the baby, and it wasn’t fair to separate Stiles from his pack. 

When Derek had first taken the space, he’d resisted some of the renovations, not seeing the point of the extra rooms, but he was grateful now that he didn’t have to do any hasty updates to have rooms for everyone. The original tiny kitchen had gotten a major overhaul, so instead of a tiny counter and a mini fridge, he had a full-fledged prep space, and a dining area. He’d never made much use of it. 

It was almost worth the trouble of all those years ago when he saw the awe on Melissa McCall’s face.

“This kitchen is…” she said, touching the counter reverently. “It’s…”

“Do you mind if we use it?” Scott asked, eyeing the large fridge.

“That’s what it’s there for,” Derek said with a shrug.

John was looking out the large windows, admiring the view.

Stiles had gone straight to the couch to sit down. He had one hand on his stomach and the other against his mouth, and his red-rimmed eyes were closed again.

“You okay?” Scott asked, grasping Stiles’ shoulder.

“Scott, don’t shake me, I’ll--” Stiles cut himself off and put his hand back over his mouth. 

Melissa tsked. “Hun, you probably don’t have anything left to puke up.” She opened a few cupboards before finding a glass. “Derek, where can I get Stiles some water?”

“The tap?” Derek suggested with a raised eyebrow.

Melissa looked at the faucet. “You can just drink it straight from there? Don’t you have to filter it first?”

“It’s already filtered,” Derek said. “I can get bottled water if you want.”

“No, no,” Melissa said quickly. “This is fine, just different.” She filled the glass and brought it over to Stiles. “Here, sweetie.”

Stiles looked at the glass like it was his worst enemy.

“Come on, you’ll feel better when you’re not so dried out,” Melissa said, forcing the glass into his hand. She sat with him, pointing out things in the apartment that caught her eye.

“Well, I’m going to head downstairs for a bit,” Laura said. “Mom will be over in a couple of hours with dinner, okay, Derek?”

“Yep.” Derek hadn’t thought it was necessary, but Talia had insisted that she’d bring dinner over the day they arrived. She wouldn’t admit that she really just wanted to meet them.

“We should unpack,” Melissa said. She patted Stiles’ leg. “You’ll feel much better when you’ve settled in.”

Stiles gave her a weak smile. Derek showed them the bedrooms available, and they quickly sorted them out between them. The room closest to Derek’s was left to be the nursery, and the one next to that would be Stiles’ room. John would be across the hall, while Scott and Melissa took the loft rooms at the top of the stairs.

Scott carried Melissa’s bag upstairs before returning for his own so they could unpack. Stiles didn’t even bother bringing his suitcase in. He went straight to his father’s room to help him.

“Stiles, I can unpack myself,” John said.

“I know, but it will be faster if I help,” Stiles insisted.

John huffed. “You have your own things to see to.”

“Yes, but they’ll wait.” They bickered in English at first, but quickly devolved into Estlovian, so Derek couldn’t follow the conversation. Regardless of John’s protests, Stiles helped unpack the entire suitcase, and a few of the boxes that had arrived previously before he had to run to the bathroom and puke up all the water Melissa had given him. John wouldn’t let him back in the room, so he had to give up and start on his own unpacking.

At five o’clock, Talia breezed in, laden with take-out bags, Laura and her fiancé close behind her. As soon as the bags were set down, she hugged Derek tightly. “How is it going?”

“Fine,” Derek said with a shrug. There were people invading his space, but so far they were polite people. That could change on a dime though.

Introductions were made, and everyone helped set the table to get ready for dinner.

Melissa took one look at Stiles and sighed. “Go sit down before you fall over.”

“I can help,” Stiles said, counting plates.

Scott stole the stoneware right out of his hands. “There’s plenty of hands to make light work. We got it.”

Stiles grumbled and protested until his father started in on him in Estlovian. He went to sit on the couch while they finished up.

“Stiles,” Scott called as soon as they were ready. No response came. 

Derek was the only one standing, so he skirted the couch, and found Stiles passed out on his stomach, his face pressed against the cushions with his mouth hanging open. “He’s asleep.”

“Should we wake him?” Scott asked.

Melissa shook her head. “He needs the rest. He’ll adjust to the time change soon enough.” 

“Oh, you must be jetlagged,” Talia said. “I know Derek had a hard time sleeping while away.”

“Yeah, it’s like three in the morning back home,” Scott said cheerfully. “It feels like I haven’t slept in three days.”

“Well, with the four hour train ride to the airport, waiting there, and then the flight...” Melissa shrugged. “Maybe not three days, but we were certainly traveling a long time.”

Derek frowned. The airport they’d come from was just on the outskirts of the capital. “Why did the train take you four hours?” 

“Well, we don’t live in the capital, we live in Hester. It’s a pretty small village.” Scott gestured to the food. “This is great.”

“Thank you,” Talia said.

Derek wasn’t done yet though. “If you live in Hester, four hours away, what was Stiles doing in a hotel bar in Parsa?”

“Making bad choices,” John muttered.

Melissa hissed at him in Estlovian, and after a quick snipe back at her, he returned to his food.

Derek didn’t feel particularly hungry anymore. It hurt to think that Stiles had gone so far out of his way to trick him like this. So many people had told him that this was a premeditated plan, and that omegas there did it all the time, but a small part of Derek had hoped it had been an accident. Knowing Stiles had gone so far away from home to be in that situation made it impossible for Derek to hold out that hope.

He stayed silent for the remainder of dinner, despite his mother’s questioning looks. She’d adopted a “make the best of it” philosophy, focusing on the prospect of a new grandchild rather than the shitshow of the actual situation. She and Melissa talked politely throughout the meal with enthusiastic interjections from Scott. John was nearly as silent as Derek, only speaking when spoken to directly.

Stiles didn’t wake up even after dinner was cleared and dessert consumed. Scott put together a plate for him, but he was dead to the world when Talia was ready to leave.

“A shame he’s so tired,” she said, getting her purse. “I would have liked to get to know him a bit better.”

“I would have liked to see him eat,” Melissa said. “It’s been a trial for him to keep anything down.”

Talia looked at Stiles’ sleeping form. “You’ll excuse me for saying he doesn’t look like he has enough meat on him to be missing meals.”

“I’ll excuse you and agree with you,” Melissa said. “I’m hoping now that we’re here, he won’t be so stressed. That might go a long way to reducing his nausea, and fatigue.”

“You’ll be sure to let us know if it doesn’t.” Talia hugged Derek close. “You’ll come home to visit soon.”

Derek rolled his eyes. She made it sound like she lived across the country, not just outside of town at the main house. “Alright.”

It was barely after eight o’clock but Derek’s new houseguests all called it an early night. There was a brief discussion of waking Stiles to send him to his bed, but the concern that he wouldn’t fall back to sleep outweighed the prospect of a sore back tomorrow.

Derek retreated to his own room, but he couldn’t even think about sleep. His mind was in a dozen different directions, trying to think of all the ways his life would change now that he was responsible for these people. How could he go from not even being trusted with a goldfish to an alpha to four people with a baby on the way?

The pack seemed nice enough, but every time he looked at them, he remembered that they were here because Derek had been tricked. Had they known what Stiles had planned? Did they encourage it for their own gain? Derek couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. 

***

After a fitful night, Derek woke up and stared at the piercingly red numbers of his alarm clock, which insulted him by reading just after five in the morning. It took Derek a few moments to orient himself enough to realize the noise that had woken him was coming from the kitchen.

Determined to get more sleep, Derek rolled over and buried his head under his pillow. He stayed in the foggy state of in between until the noises mostly stopped, but the erratic creak of a floor board or ting of a utensil persisted. Derek tried to tune it out but instead found himself unable to focus on anything else, even straining his ears for the next noise.

This had happened before, when Derek was on the edge of sleep. For a brief summer in high school, he’d shared a room with his cousin Mark. Mark liked to stay up late into the night on his computer, chatting with friends, and playing games online. A privacy screen solved any light issues, but every once in awhile, Derek would start to focus on the faint sound of Mark’s mouse clicking. And he _could not_ get to sleep. Mark would graciously stop until Derek passed out, but it was a pain for both of them. 

With this in mind, it was easy for Derek to determine he wouldn’t be getting any sleep without at least investigating the noise, so with a few grunts, groans, and curses, he levered himself out of bed. The air-conditioned room was chilly compared to the warmth of his bed, and Derek’s bare feet objected to the icy floor, but he’d lost the slippers Laura had given him. Again.

Derek shuffled down the hallway and into the kitchen, squinting at the light above the stove. When his vision cleared, he saw Stiles, sitting on a kitchen stool that he’d clearly brought around the island so it was in front of the stove instead of in it’s usual place. He had a mixing bowl in front of him, a pan on the stove, a spatula in one hand, and a ladle in the other. As soon as he saw Derek, his face lit up and he jumped up from the stool. 

“Hey, hi, you’re awake,” Stiles said. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be up so early. I thought I’d be waiting for a while. Are you an early riser? I’m not usually, but I guess I fell asleep last night? So I woke up two hours ago, and I unpacked some more, but that didn’t take long, so I thought everyone might like breakfast. I made pancakes. Well, I think they’re pancakes, that’s not what we call them but it’s close enough I think. I mean, I haven’t cooked them yet, because I wanted them to be fresh, but I have the batter ready to go, it’s all fluffed up and everything. Are you hungry?”

Derek blinked at the onslaught of words. “It’s not even six in the morning yet.”

Stiles looked at the clock on the microwave. “Yeah, it’s not.” He looked back at Derek and after a moment, a look of horror dawned on his face. “Oh my god, I woke you up, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, I just thought it would be nice for-- No, it doesn’t matter, I’m really sorry. I won’t make any more noise at all now if you want to go back to bed.”

Derek _did_ want to go back to bed. But with each passing moment of being up and about, it was less likely he’d actually be able to sleep. And Stiles had probably been “not making any noise” for awhile now, but Derek could hear it anyway. “Well, I’m up now.”

“You are,” Stiles agreed. He looked sadly at his mixing bowl. “Do you even like pancakes?”

“Yeah, sure.” Derek pulled out the stool that was still in place at the counter and sat down. 

Stiles gave him a hesitant smile. “I’ll have them fried up in no time.” 

Silence reigned while the pancakes cooked. Stiles kept starting a sentence then aborting it when he looked at Derek. Derek didn’t make any attempts to encourage him to continue. 

A neat stack of three pancakes was set in front of him to go along with the syrup and butter that Stiles had already retrieved. Stiles reclaimed his stool and sat staring at Derek.

“Aren’t you going to have some?” Derek said, gesturing to the empty pan with his fork.

Stiles closed his eyes for a second and his nostrils flared. “No, I don’t think so,” he said before covering his mouth briefly.

“Melissa doesn't think you’re eating enough,” Derek pointed out.

Stiles shrugged. “Kinda goes with the territory. Everyone says I won’t be sick forever. Except for my dad. He said my mom was sick for her whole pregnancy and it would--” Stiles broke off. “Well, I’m hoping I don’t share that symptom with her.”

“What did your dad say?” Derek prodded.

Stiles sighed. For a moment, Derek didn’t think he would answer, then he said quietly, “That it would serve me right.”

Derek didn’t respond. Focusing on his food instead. They’d spoken briefly about Stiles’ mother when they’d first met. Derek wondered if the grief he’d thought they shared had just been an act. One more step in the ruse to gain his trust. The thought made the pancakes dry and gummy in his mouth. 

Derek wiped his mouth and pushed the plate away. “Look, I don’t usually get up until after seven, so…”

“I’ll make sure I don’t wake you up before then,” Stiles assured him. He eyed the pancakes still on his plate. “Is something wrong with them?”

Derek shrugged. “Just not hungry.”

“Oh.” Stiles' shoulders drooped. It made Derek squirm to see him disappointed, but why the hell should he care? He owed Stiles nothing but what those barbaric laws insisted he provide. A roof, a meal, a livelihood. He ignored Stiles and went back to his room. 

On his way down the hallway he heard Stiles start to retch in the sink. He hesitated for a moment, thinking he should help, but his resentment was still bigger than the guilt he felt when he ignored him instead. 

***

The McCall-Stilinski pack spent the majority of that day and the next settling into their new home, unpacking boxes that had arrived and finding space for all their things. Stiles alternated between enthusiastically helping and sitting completely motionless on the bathroom floor. 

Both days,Derek escaped to work. He’d been offered a couple days off to help with the transition, but had declined. He’d claimed he wanted to save all of his vacation days for when the baby arrived, but really, he just wanted to avoid the people in his house.

It was strange to go home to a busy kitchen with dinner almost on the table instead of an empty apartment. Derek hadn’t ever considered himself lonely while living alone, because if he wanted company, he could go downstairs to see his pack mates, or go to the main house, which he frequently did. His apartment had been a space for him to be alone. Now he wasn’t sure how to relax.

They didn’t seem to expect much of him, though. After serving up tonight's dinner of chicken and pasta, the conversation carried on without much input from Derek.

“We’re nearly unpacked now,” Scott said.

Melissa nodded agreement. “Enough to start taking care of other things. I have an appointment at the community college tomorrow. I’m hoping they can help me find out what courses I’ll need to recertify.”

“Recertify?” Derek asked. 

“I’m a nurse,” Melissa said. “But I originally got my training in Cachorro. In Estlovia that didn’t matter, but the qualifications are different here. I like nursing, so I’m hoping to stay in that field.”

Derek nodded but didn’t say anything. He hoped that it wouldn’t take too many courses to get her retrained, because as their alpha, Derek was responsible for paying for them. 

“What are your plans for tomorrow?” Melissa asked the table at large.

“Stiles and I were thinking we could go explore tomorrow,” Scott said. “There’s so much in town that we want to see.”

“No,” John said.

Stiles looked up from poking half-heartedly at his pasta. “What?”

“No,” John repeated. “You aren’t going anywhere without an escort.”

Stiles stared at him incredulously. “I haven’t needed an escort since I was 10.”

John’s jaw tightened. “Well, that was probably my mistake. I thought I could trust you.”

Stiles’ fork clattered to his plate. “You can.”

“No, you already proved me wrong on that,” John said, eyes flicking to Stiles’ stomach. “You’re not going anywhere alone.”

“I won’t be alone,” Stiles said. “I’ll be going with Scott.”

“Scott’s a beta, he doesn’t count.” John shrugged. “Not to mention, the two of you have gotten into trouble enough that I know he won’t be able to stop you.”

Stiles’ face was getting redder by the minute. “That’s not fair.”

“None of this has been fair,” John agreed. He said something in Estlovian, that made Stiles hiss. Stiles volleyed back in the same language, and Derek was lost as the argument grew.

Scott stared at his plate and refused to look anywhere else. Melissa tried to interject, but was quickly drowned out by the rising voices of the Stilinskis. Instead, she put her head in her hands, and ignored them.

Stiles rounded on Derek and spat out something in Estlovian. Derek had no idea what he’d said, so he gave a half shrug. Stiles didn’t just look angry, he looked hurt. He said the one thing in Estolovian that Derek _could_ recognize, but still didn’t know the meaning of, before pushing back from the table and stalking away. 

“What does that mean?” He asked quietly.

“Pardon?” Melissa said, blinking at him. 

“That last thing he said. Pr-- Pr--” Derek couldn’t even sound it out. “He’s said it before.”

“I’m sorry,” John said quietly. “He said, ‘I’m sorry'. But that doesn’t do us any good.” He got up from the table, took his plate to the kitchen before disappearing in the same direction as his son.

Derek stayed at the table, even after the McCalls had cleaned up and retreated to their rooms. 

_I’m sorry._

From the moment this whole thing had started, Stiles had been saying “I’m sorry.”

Derek didn’t understand. If he was so sorry, why did he do it in the first place?


	3. Chapter 3

***

“Derek, can I talk to you for a second?”

Derek suppressed a groan. He was tired and hungry, and he wanted to go hide in his room like he had been the past week, not talk to this boy he barely knew. “Yes, Scott?”

“So, I was thinking that I’d really like to get a job,” Scott said. “Mom doesn’t have much savings, so she’s worried about paying for those courses. And she can’t really work until she does them so…. Anyway, I graduated school, and I’m 18. But I don’t really have much other training. I had an after-school job with animals at home, and that was nice, but… I don’t really know if you can do that here without an education.”

“You want to go to school?” Derek asked, mentally tallying Scott’s tuition on top of Melissa’s.

“No, no!” Scott said quickly. “I mean, not yet, at least. I want to work as soon as possible.”

“Alright,” Derek said. He could afford to send Scott to school, but he’d rather avoid it until after Henry was finished contesting this whole damn situation with the Estlovian government. “You know we own a canning business, right?”

Scott nodded. “Your mom mentioned it.”

“Openings in the factories come up fairly regularly. I could ask around, if that’s something you’d be interested in.” Derek cut Scott off as he began to enthusiastically agree. “It’s hard work, Scott. You’d be on your feet all day, doing the same thing again and again. That can really take a toll. Not exactly mentally stimulating, but it takes a lot out of you.”

“I understand, I can work hard,” Scott promised.

“Okay, I’ll talk to Erica.” As the current head of HR, she’d know best where they needed staff at the moment. 

“Derek?” John asked.

Derek startled. He hadn’t heard John come down the hallway. “Yes?”

“Do you think you could ask Erica if they have more than one spot available?” John couldn’t meet Derek’s eyes. “Scott’s the priority, but if they had more space… It’s been a long time since I’ve been on the hunt for work.”

Derek eyed the older man. Surely he was nearing retirement age, not ready to start a new career. “If you’d like--”

“No,” Stiles said pulling himself up from the couch. “No, no, no, you are not working in a factory.”

“Stiles,” John growled, and they were off again.

This was the main reason that Derek had been hiding in his own apartment. He _hated_ conflict like this. It made his stomach hurt. But John and Stiles could barely say two words to each other before another fight started up. It rarely stayed in English for long, but Derek didn’t need to understand the words to know they were not pleasant discussions.

“Stop, stop,” Melissa said, coming out of the kitchen to wave a wooden spoon at them. “You don’t have the energy for this.”

That was the other problem. Stiles was still too ill to eat. Even when he forced himself to, he couldn’t keep it down for any length of time. He was so exhausted, he could barely keep his eyes open. It didn’t stop him from fighting with his father though.

It seemed like the only things Stiles did were fight with his father, and _fuss_. Every morning since he’d arrived, Derek entered the kitchen to find breakfast hot and ready, and a lunch packed on the table. Stiles often tried to stay and talk to Derek while he ate, but it was hard to carry on a conversation when glued to the toilet.

He fussed in other ways too. The apartment had never been so clean. Derek had left his dirty clothes in the laundry room one day before work, intending to get to them when he came home, but when he got back, they were all cleaned, pressed, and waiting outside his bedroom door. 

Stiles was spending every ounce of energy he could summon trying to help the rest of them. It should have been nice, but it just made Derek uncomfortable.

The Stilinskis completely ignored Melissa’s protests. She turned to Derek, arms crossed with a look that clearly said, _do something!_

“There are other jobs,” Derek said loudly. The pair broke off and looked at him, confused. “The company has lots of different jobs, the factory line just has the most positions, most frequently. I can ask Erica about other areas.”

“Like what?” Stiles eyes narrowed.

Derek sighed. “I don’t know, what kind of skill set do you have, John?”

John shrugged. “I was on the police force for over 30 years.”

Stiles laughed and told him something in Estlovian.

John’s mouth twitched in an almost smile. “Your English was always better than mine.” The smile quickly disappeared, and he just looked sad and disappointed again. 

Derek was saved from any further discussion by a knock on the door. Erica didn’t wait for an answer before breezing in. “Der, did you miss me?”

“I saw you less than an hour ago at work,” he pointed out, but he accepted her hug anyway.

“An hour already, you must have pined,” she said, flippantly. Erica had been dropping by almost every day, instead of Derek going to visit her and Boyd. She’d warmed up to Melissa, but she was still being vicious to Stiles, and coldly indifferent to Scott and John. John took it in stride, like he didn’t expect any differently. Scott got upset everytime she so much as looked at Stiles now. 

“I come bearing fond greetings!” Erica said grandly. “You’ve been summoned.”

Derek sighed. He refused to play into her game, too tired for this nonsense. He crossed his arms and glared at her instead.

Erica patted his cheek. “Your mom wants you to come for dinner.”

“Now?” Derek asked with a groan.

“No, tomorrow,” Erica said. “It’s someone’s birthday, I don’t remember who.”

“Cayden,” Derek said absently. He’d forgotten all about it. 

“Great,” Erica said with a shrug. “It’s gonna be a BBQ at the house. Starts at three, bring the foreigners.”

“Excuse me?” Melissa said, her spoon still looking threatening.

“We don’t want to impose on a family gathering,” John said, placing a placating hand on Melissa’s shoulder.

“Oh, but John,” Erica said with brittle brightness. “Didn’t you realize? We’re all family now! Derek’s little bun in the oven needs to meet the rest of their pack.”

Stiles cringed, looking impossibly paler.

“Maybe we should do something more gradual,” Scott suggested. “Your pack is pretty big.”

“If you wanted to do things gradually, you should have started a week ago,” Erica snipped. “Everyone is tired of waiting.” Erica poked Derek’s side, and said, much softer, “They miss you.”

“Alright.” It would be good to see his family, but Derek still felt uneasy about it. No one had said anything to make him feel bad about the whole situation, but Derek couldn’t help feeling like he’d fucked up, and Stiles was the evidence of it, standing right in front of them. 

“What can we bring?” Stiles asked, pushing himself up from the couch and dragging himself to the kitchen.

“Nothing.” Erica’s tone was sharp, but she looked a bit concerned by the way he was listing to the side.

“I'll think of something,” Stiles said, leaning against the fridge with a look of determination in his eyes.

***

“What the hell is that?” Mark said, using the serving spoon to poke the vaguely green substance.

“I think it’s cabbage based,” Derek answered, bypassing the dish in favour of other things. Potato salad, pasta salad, even coleslaw, just not… whatever the hell Stiles had made.

“Ew,” Mark said, poking it again. “I think I designed alien sludge that looked a little like this.”

“What?”

Derek winced and looked over his shoulder at Stiles. “Um, did you meet Mark? He programs video games.”

Stiles squinted at him. “Video games with alien slime that looks like kapusta?”

Mark snorted. “Is that supposed to be what it’s called? It smells like feet.”

“It’s cabbage,” Stiles said, not exactly denying the truly heinous smell. 

“Hurry up,” Cora said, bumping Mark with her whole body. “The rest of us are hungry, too.” 

Mark abandoned the spoon and followed Derek’s lead with the other salads. 

“Stiles, are you going to join the lineup?” Derek asked, unsure if he should be taking him through himself. It was a BBQ. All the food was laid out on the table. Derek thought that was pretty self-explanatory.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Stiles said. “I just need to make sure my dad doesn’t get too much of that meat.”

“Right.” Derek moved further down the line as quickly as he could.

Mark hissed, “What the hell?” at him as soon as he caught up.

“What now?” Derek had been bombarded by hissed questions from his family since he arrived at the party.

“What’s with the watchdog thing with his dad?” Mark elbowed him in the ribs and jerked his head toward Stiles, as if Derek didn’t know who he was talking about.

“I don’t know,” Derek said. “It’s just something he does.” He’d watched Stiles do it at dinner too, insist John eat his vegetables and avoid certain things, until Melissa overuled him and made both of them eat what _she_ wanted them to. 

“Better be careful, bro, he might start doing the same to you,” Cora said. “And we all know what a sweet tooth you have.”

“No, he won’t,” Derek scoffed.

“Why not? He clearly has no problem overtaking your life,” Cora said. “And no issue bossing around alphas.”

Derek gave his sister a hard look. “The hell does that mean, Cora? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say. We have never been a family that thinks omegas should be meek and mild kitchen maids.”

Cora looked a little chagrined. “Sorry. I just don’t like him because he tricked you. It sucks that we all have to pretend this is okay.”

“I know,” Derek said. He, more than anyone, had to shove aside his feelings. “Henry is still working on it. The whole thing just makes no sense. He seems like a decent guy, and his pack is nice. If it wasn’t for the whole pregnancy thing…”

“That’s a pretty big thing, Derek,” Cora said.

“I know. But pregnancy means baby, right?” Derek shrugged. “That kid is mine, and if that means I have to put up with their dad, even though I’m mad as hell he tricked me, so be it. At least for now.”

“When’s he due?” Cora asked. “I’m planning a trip to Peru and I want to be back in time to meet the baby.”

“I think it’s mid-April,” Derek said.

Mark snorted. “Pretty easy to calculate isn’t it? You know when the deed was done.”

Derek stuck out his foot, and Mark barely avoided dropping his food when he tripped. “Yeah, dumbass, but babies don’t always stick to the schedule. It could be a month early or stay in there three weeks late.”

“It can’t come early, I have things to do,” Cora complained.

“You’ll probably be finishing your semester still,” Derek said, choosing a lawnchair. “It’s okay, the baby will still be here when you get back. 

Cora huffed. “I’ll have to come meet the baby _then_ go to Peru.” She launched into a monologue on Peruvian fuchsia varieties. 

“What is he doing now?” Mark muttered past a mouthful of food, jabbing his fork in and opposite directions. 

Stiles was lying on the ground in front of the lawnchairs John and Melissa had claimed, flat on his stomach, his head buried in his arms while his plate of food lay forgotten beside him. Scott looked at him sadly, and John leaned down to gently rub a hand over his back.

“He does that a lot,” Derek said returning to his own meal. He caught sight of his mother marching toward him with a determined look in her eyes and groaned.

“Derek, is Stiles alright?” she asked. “He looks… Well, you can see for yourself.”

Derek looked back over to see Stiles had curled even closer to his father’s feet. “I don’t know, it’s just something he does.”

“Why?” Talia asked.

Derek shrugged. He’d never bothered to ask why Stiles so frequently ended up on the floor. “I guess it helps with the nausea?”

Talia’s frown deepened. “He’s nauseated again?”

“He’s always is,” Derek said. “It’s kind of a constant state of being for him.”

“Don’t you think you should go over and see if he’s okay?” Talia asked. “We could get him some ice or water.”

Derek shrugged. “Not really? He’ll rally in a little while.”

His mother stared down at him for a moment, then put her hands on her hips the same way she had when he was a ten year old in trouble. “Derek Hale, get off your butt and go ask that omega if he needs anything.”

“He’s fine--” Derek protested.

“Up!” Talia said, kicking his chair lightly. “That is not how we treat guests.”

“He’s not a guest, he’s an interloper,” Cora said. Mark snorted, but Talia was unamused.

“Cora, go into the house and find some saltines,” Talia said. “Stiles isn’t eating any of his dinner.”

Cora glared back at her mother. “I don’t care if he’s not eating.”

“Well, you should,” Talia said. “Pregnancy is hard work, you know.”

“For God’s sake, Mom, this is not your new son-in-law, he’s a random omega that fucked Derek over to get a visa and a meal ticket,” Cora hissed.

Talia looked at Derek expecting him to interject, but he couldn’t. Cora hadn’t said anything he didn’t feel himself. Talia sighed. “I don’t know why Stiles did what he did, and I certainly don’t agree with it. I’m still hopeful that Henry can fix it. But I’ll be damned if I stand aside and watch another person suffer, _especially_ when they’re carrying my grandchild. Now, get. Up.”

Derek and Cora hopped to their mother’s bidding. Mark followed them even though he hadn’t been told to. Derek resisted the urge to poke Stiles with his foot when he got to his side. “Stiles, are you alright?”

Stiles gave a pitiful moan and blinked up and him. “Wuh?”

Melissa took mercy on him and answered. “He’ll be better soon. Apparently the smell of beans doesn’t agree with him.”

“Does he need anything?” Derek asked.

“Some water would be a good idea,” Melissa said. “Any maybe you could take his plate away?”

“I got it,” Mark said, scooping up the paper plate.

“Here,” Cora said, returning from the house and tossing a packet of crackers at Stiles.

John leveled her with a flat look. “Great. Broken crackers. So gracious of you.”

Derek recognized the look Cora got when she was gearing up for a fight. “Thanks, Cora, I got it from here.”

Cora glared at John a moment longer before stalking away.

“I’ll grab that water,” Derek said awkwardly. The drinks were kept in metal buckets that had started out piled high with ice, but the heat of the day had melted the ice away as the drinks were scooped up, leaving the remainder floating in frigid water. Derek muttered a swear as he reached in and felt around for a water bottle.

He might have flicked a little bit of that water on Stiles when he handed him the drink, but rather than flinching, Stiles grabbed his hand and put it on his neck.

“God, why is it so hot out,” Stiles moaned. 

“Because we moved to California, Stiles,” John said crossly, while Scott laughed.

Melissa gave a forced smile. “It’s an adjustment for everyone.”

“Yeah?” Mark was eating off of Stiles’ plate now, but sticking close. “What’s the biggest change?”

“Well, that’s hard to say,” Melissa started. She and Mark kept the conversation going enough to relieve some awkwardness, even if things were still stilted.

It was uncomfortable to stand and lean over Stiles, so Derek dropped down next to him, his hand still trapped against Stiles’ neck. He caught sight of Cora and the stony look on her face just before she spoke.

“He’s not your personal attendant, you know,” she said. “I’m sure there’s things he’d rather be doing than be stuck to you.”

Stiles blinked up at her. “What?”

Cora crossed her arms, and glared down at him. “Derek should be visiting his family right now, not catering to you.”

Stiles looked confused for a moment longer, before he seemed to realize he had hold of Derek’s arm. He let go like it was on fire, and his face turned bright red. Derek cringed when Stiles muttered _sorry_ in Estlovian.

Cora wasn’t appeased. “Well, did you need something else? A pillow maybe? A throne? How about he hands over his dignity, too? Oh, wait, you already have that.”

Stiles hands were fisted so tightly his knuckles were white. “I think I’ll go wait in the car.” Then he was up and lurching away.

Talia was striding over, and Cora seemed to realize the potential repercussions she might face from her comments. “You can’t do that,” she called after Stiles.

Derek considered John a grave man. But he had never seen him look quite so severe, as he raised a hand to get Cora’s attention. “Do not presume to tell my son what to do.”

“I was just--” she started.

“Making it perfectly clear his presence isn’t wanted,” John finished. “You can’t have it both ways.” He pushed out of his seat. “Mel, take your time. Stiles and I will play cards until you're done.” He followed his son without another word.

“Until she’s done?” Cora echoed, jerking a thumb at Melissa as she stared down at Derek. “Seriously?”

“Yes, Miss Hale,” Melissa said. “I was having a pleasant conversation with this young man until I was rudely interrupted by your outburst. I think I’ll finish it.” She turned back to Mark with clear dismissal.

Cora was gearing up into another fit. 

“Leave it,” Derek growled.

“I am not just going to stand here and let them take control of your life,” she argued.

“They’re not,” Derek said. The Stilinski-McCall pack had done everything they could to try and be accommodating, but Derek wasn’t doing the things he really wanted to. He was too busy avoiding them like the plague. “Cora, I need to find a way to make this work. You can’t do that for me.” He could see the sheen in her eyes, and he got up to hug his baby sister. “I know, Cor, it’s not easy. But I’ll figure it out, okay?”

“It’s not fair,” Cora said. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I know. Me, too.” Derek just wasn’t quite sure what that meant anymore.

*** 

Monday morning, he didn’t expect to see Stiles at all by how absent he’d been the remainder of the weekend. However, just like always, he was in the kitchen when Derek walked in. Breakfast was plated as usual, but today he had a determined look in his eyes. 

“I need to talk to you.” His back was rigidly straight and he gripped the countertop with white knuckles. 

“Okay,” Derek said sinking into his seat at the counter.

Stiles held up a white piece of paper, brandishing it like a shield. “This is a list of doctors. I don’t care which one we go to, but it has to be one of them.”

“Doctors?” Derek echoed, eyebrow raised.

Stiles must have taken Derek’s tone as a refusal because his eyes widened. “Please, Derek, this is the only thing I’ll ask of you. I’ll do anything you want to make up for it, or-- or--you can ignore me! Just pretend I don’t even exist, if you’ll just make this happen.”

Derek blinked. “I-- Stiles, if you want an obstetrician that's fine--”

“No, no, not for me,” Stiles said pushing the the paper toward Derek. “For my dad.”

“What?” Derek felt like he was missing part of the conversation.

Stiles rubbed his eyes. “Please, Derek, I’ll do anything--”

“Stiles.”

Derek jumped a foot in the air. No one else was usually awake at this time of day. John was standing at the edge of the kitchen glaring at his son.

“You’ve already done enough,” John said.

“No, but these doctors--” Stiles said, grabbing the paper to hold up again.

“No,” John said, firmly.

“If you just went to see them--”

“No.”

“Derek could get you an appointment--”

“There’s no point, I won’t go,” John said. He added something in Estlovian that made Stiles’ whole body crumple. 

“Tato, please,” Stiles said, tears forming in his eyes.

“Let it go, Stiles.” John shook his head and turned away. “You shouldn’t have given up your life for this.

Stiles watched his father’s retreating form with wide, glassy eyes. His shoulders slumped and his back hit the fridge with a dull thump as he slid to the ground. Derek started toward him thinking Stiles must have fainted or something, then heard the first sob. Just a whimper at first that grew into a gut wrenching choked off noise that Stiles tried to stifle by curling in on himself, knees pressed into his chest and a hand over his mouth. 

Derek had no idea what to do. He sat immobilized until Scott came into the kitchen. He didn’t even have to ask, he just sat down with Stiles and rubbed his back while he sobbed.

Derek slipped out of the room and went to work.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, everyone, things are really heating up in the comment section! I've changed the tags around a little bit, and I hope that helps, but mostly I wanted to remind everyone that, that Stiles made a bad decision, but I still love him, and this is, in fact, a romance fic, so when everything is said and done, so will Derek! If you aren't comfortable with that, knowing what Stiles did, proceed no further! Also, consider that Derek is dealing with this as best he can and deserves the time to process that in his own way.
> 
> I really do hope that you enjoy the rest of his fic, but if not, I'm confident that there are more out there that will be a much better read for you. Rather than commenting on how much you don't like this one, go tell one of those fics how great it is.

***

Derek hadn’t realized that Stiles could eat _less_ than he already had been. At dinner, he didn’t even try to pick at his plate, he just stared at it. It didn’t take more than a day of this before Melissa pointed out Stiles really should have an appointment with an obstetrician soon anyway.

Stiles had said, “I don’t want one.” His expression was blank, completely devoid of the animation Derek was used to seeing there. 

Derek ignored him and called his family doctor. Deaton referred him to Dr. Morrell and an appointment was set for the following week. Derek assumed that would be fine, until he got a panicked call from Scott.

“We were just trying to be helpful,” Scott kept saying.

“Doing what? What happened?” Derek said, already grabbing his jacket.

“We were moving things around in the nursery, just to figure out the layout, you know?” Scott said. “But then Stiles fainted.”

“Fainted?” Derek started running out of his office. “Did he hit anything on the way down?”

“I don’t know!” Scott cried. “I had my back turned, and then he was on the floor.”

“Is he conscious now?” Derek cursed when he remembered Melissa wasn’t at home to help them. “Is he alright?”

Scott whined. “He’s awake, but…Derek, do you think the baby is okay?”

Derek stuttered to a stop. The baby was barely even real to him, a strange entity that represented all the shit that had gone wrong. He didn’t _want_ a baby, he wasn’t ready but-- They were _his_ and he couldn’t bear if something happened to them. “Bring him to Dr. Deaton’s office. You and John take him in a cab now, and I’ll meet you there.”

***

Derek wasted precious time with the receptionist before he was sent to a waiting room to sit with Scott and John. He’d barely sat down when Deaton entered the room.

“How is he?” Scott asked jumping to his feet.

“I don’t know,” Deaton said mildly.

“What does that mean?” Derek asked. Deaton had been his doctor since he was a child, and a friend of the family as well, however, Derek wouldn’t call him a friend. Derek was easily frustrated by Deaton's calm demeanor and lack of information. 

“Well, he won’t let me near him,” Deaton explained. “He won’t answer any questions. I haven’t been able to even take his vitals. If I even try to touch him he screams.”

John muttered something in Estlovian, and Scott looked wide-eyed at him.

“What the hell does that mean?” Derek said, rubbing his face. He was sick and tired of not knowing what people were saying. 

“'Little fucker', essentially,” Scott said, shock and awe in this voice. “I didn’t think you even _knew_ words like that.” 

“Derek, I think you should go talk to him, see if you can get him to calm down,” Deaton suggested.

Derek shook his head. “No, I don’t--”

“I’ll go with you.” John got to his feet, his tone foreboding. 

They were led into the exam room where Stiles was sitting on the examination table with a mutinous expression.

“Stiles,” John said. “You need to let Dr. Deaton look at you. You could be hurt.”

“No,” Stiles said stubbornly. “I won’t see a doctor until you do.”

John crosses his arms. “That is a completely different situation.”

“Not really,” Stiles singsonged.

“It is,” John insisted. “This doctor is necessary.”

“So is the one I want you to see.”

“Stiles, you’re pregnant,” John said. “Something could have happened to the baby when you fell.”

“Like you give a shit about the baby,” Stiles spat. “You’d rather it didn’t exist.”

“No, Stiles, I’d rather you hadn’t _ruined your life_ by going out and getting knocked up by a stranger,” John shouted. “That doesn’t mean I want either of you to be hurt now!”

“I’m already hurt, dad,” Stiles shouted back. “It hurts that I could lose you!” 

“Stop!” Derek said. “Both of you, I don’t want to hear one more damn argument.” He pointed his finger at John. “You are going to sit right there while I get Deaton, and when he comes back, you’re going to let him examine you.” Stiles face lit up. Derek pointed at him next. “And _you_ are going to let him look at you as soon as he’s done.”

“Okay,” Stiles said eagerly.

John sighed. “That’s not--”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Derek held up a halting hand then stalked from the room. Deaton was waiting in the hall. Derek turned on him and opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly cut off.

“No need to shout at me, I’m not the one who's reluctant,” Deaton said. “Let’s get started shall we?”

Deaton didn’t get very far into a general exam of John before he frowned. “John, you seem to have a heart murmur.”

“Yes,” John said with a shrug.

“You're aware of it?” Deaton asked. 

“Diagnosed last year,” John said. “Started getting short of breath. Some twinges here and there.”

“Twinges?” Deaton echoed.

“I thought he was having a heart attack,” Stiles said, memories of fear in his eyes. 

“Well, I wasn’t,” John said glaring at him.

“What was the diagnosis?” Deaton interjected.

John waved a hand dismissively. “Hyper my -- something.”

“Were you given any medications or treatment for it?” Deaton asked.

John shook his head. “They said it was incurable. Nothing I could really do but eat better.”

Deaton shook his head. “Well, that might be true in Estlovia, but here we have several different options we could pursue. I’m going to refer you to a specialist.”

“How much will that cost?” John asked. “I don’t want anyone paying for a doctor when they’ll just tell me the same thing.”

“We have health insurance,” Derek said, rubbing his face tiredly. “Even if they don’t cover it, I can afford for you to see a doctor.” 

What the hell kind of country just sent people home when they should be seeing a specialist? Derek would have prefered to believe it was unfathomable that someone would turn down a life-saving treatment over money, but Laura sat on the board at a local hospital. He’d watched her cry over the number of people that were turned away because they couldn’t get insurance. 

“You shouldn’t have to,” John said. “Did Stiles talk you into that?”

“Stiles hasn’t said anything about it since--” Derek broke off, picturing Stiles sobbing on the floor. “No. He didn’t say anything.”

Deaton told them he’d reach out to a few colleges and they’d be in touch. He moved on to Stiles, who did everything he was told with no objections, beaming the whole time. 

Deaton didn’t think Stiles had suffered any adverse effects from his fall, but the underlying cause worried him. “You shouldn’t be so tired,” Deaton claimed. He wrote Stiles a prescription for his morning sickness, and gave firm instructions that he should discuss it further when he saw his obstetrician. 

“Why don’t we check in on baby?” Deaton asked, wheeling a machine over.

Stiles was instructed to lift his shirt, and Derek got his first glimpse of Stiles’ baby bump. Stiles clothes were so loose, Derek hadn’t seen the transformation from flat stomach to rounded abdomen. The sight of it made his blood simmer.

Derek had seen a lot of ultrasound pictures, and generally he thought it was stupid how people waved them around all excited when one blob looked just like the next. It was different, knowing that was _his_ blob. The little alien outline would form into hands and feet and a little nose. It would become a person with thoughts and feelings, facing the world.

If he felt so fiercely loyal to the baby now, Derek wondered what it would be like to actually know them, what lengths he would go to just to make sure they were happy?

Looking at Stiles and John, watching them tear up and reach for each other even though they’d fought moments before, Derek wondered what lengths his baby would go to for _him_. 

Leaving the clinic, Derek was plagued with the thought. If he’d known his father was dying, if there was something he could have done to stop it, wouldn’t he have done it? To hell with anyone else, he would've made whatever choice was needed just to have a little more time with him.

The car was completely silent on the trip home. When they got home Derek told them, “I need to go back to the office.” No protests were given. Stiles paused for a moment, but he didn’t say anything, too elated from the prospect of his father being helped, and clutching the small printout from the ultrasound.

Derek did go back to the office, even though it was already after five, and no one was there. He sat in the dark behind his desk and wondered what to do. Did this change anything? Or was the reasoning behind his actions meaningless? Had Stiles really gone to such lengths just so his father could get a second diagnosis?

More than ever, Derek missed his dad. He knew he could go see his mom, or call any number of his packmates and they’d listen to him and do their best to help. But it wasn’t the same. He and his dad had had a different kind of connection, forged during quiet evenings reading side by side, or just enjoying the breeze on the porch swing. He missed his dad’s certainty, and the way he could say so much with barely a word. He knew his dad wouldn’t be able to decide for him how he should feel, but he would have listened without judgement while Derek worked it out in his head and his heart. 

It was after midnight when Derek finally went home. The apartment was still and silent, its occupants having long gone to sleep.

Derek intended to head for his own room and follow their example, but when he reached Stiles’ door he couldn’t go any further.

A dozen questions buzzed around his head, but only one burned in his heart. Had Stiles seduced him for his own selfish gain, or to save his father?

The lightest tap on the door had it swinging open.

“Hey,” Stiles said softly from the bed.

“I didn’t think you’d still be up.” Derek leaned against the doorframe.

Stiles hugged the pillow in his arms a little closer. “But you knocked on the door anyway?”

Derek shrugged. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Come in, then,” Stiles said, patting the edge of the bed. “Talk.”

Derek entered the room and sat wearily where Stiles had indicated but didn’t speak. After so long sitting in silence, he would have thought the words would come easily, but it took him a great deal of effort to finally say, “Is that why you did it? For your dad?”

Stiles didn’t even try to play dumb. “I couldn’t lose him. He’s all I have. Scott and Melissa are pack but it’s not the same. I couldn’t watch him die like I watched my mom.”

The sight of his father hitting the ground was forever burned into Derek’s memory. He knew that one day he’d lose his mother too, but the thought of going through that grief again made his blood run cold and sweat coat his neck. “You could have told me, instead of trapping me like that.”

Stiles snorted. “Told you what? Oh, hey, we just met but wanna commit to me forever? Nice to meet you, will you be my baby daddy? I don’t think so.”

Derek cringed. “There are other ways I could have helped.”

“Like what, Derek?” Stiles asked. “You think I didn’t look into other possibilities? This wasn’t my first choice. I tried everything I could think of before I resorted to this. This was never what I planned for my life, I was going to--” He pushed his hands through his hair with a frustrated shrug. “It doesn’t matter. Do you know how long it takes to apply for a visa to somewhere like the US? Years, Derek. Literally years. Even if it’s for medical reasons, and sometimes, they’ll even let you come, but when they figure out the problem they send you back. How am I supposed to keep him healthy if he can’t get whatever medicine they prescribe, because we’re poor and we live in fucking Estlovia?”

“I don’t know,” Derek said. “I don’t--”

Stiles sighed and closed his eyes. “You know, omegas don’t have a lot of rights where I’m from, not like here. Even before I presented I remember hearing people talk about how omegas weren’t good for anything but breeding alphas and warming beds. When I _did_ present, it got even worse. I remember my parents cried. Not because they didn’t love me still, but because they knew the kind of life I’d have. 12 years old, and I’m already being called a slut by strangers. They decided they wanted better for me than that. They did everything they could to give me _more_ than what my country was willing to provide. And I worked hard for it.

“People talk all the time about the omegas who left that fucking country, like two sides of a coin. People are disgusted. They say you must be the lowest kind of person to trick an alpha like that. But there's envy too. Because they got _out_ of that place.” Stiles was sitting up and leaning so close to Derek. It was the closest they’d been since the night they met, and it makes Derek’s blood hot, even as Stiles’ words settled in his stomach like lead weights. “I’m sorry for what I did to you. I'm sorry you got tangled up in this mess, but I won’t take it back. If it means even just one more day with my father, it’s worth it. And I will spend the rest of my life. Doing _anything_ you want to make up for it.”

Derek took in the sight of him, still sleep soft and warm, the flush on his cheeks and the certainty in his eyes, and he knew he really could ask for anything and Stiles would let him take it. “I don’t know if you can. I don’t even know what I want.”

Stiles’ smile was tinged with melancholy. “Well, good thing we’ve got time then. You know where to find me.”


	5. Chapter 5

***

The medication Deaton prescribed Stiles helped him with morning sickness, but not with his exhaustion. If anything, he slept more because he wasn’t woken up by the need to expel his stomach lining. 

Derek’s mom was “in the neighborhood” and dropped by no less than four times that week, but no one really blamed her. They were all anxiously awaiting the appointment.

It was a battle to decide who would actually be _going_ to the appointment with the obstetrician, since so many of them wanted to attend but they couldn’t possibly fit them all in the exam room. Scott was kicked out of the running because he had to start training for work that day. Melissa would have been the most logical choice, but she had class. Derek had to threaten both Laura and Erica with bodily harm if they didn’t stay out of it. His mother was a little more difficult, but Stiles managed to convince her to stay home with the promise that they’d come visit with all the details as soon as it was over.

That left Derek and John, and they decided that there was room for both of them. Derek was grateful for John’s help. Stiles was nervous, and John was better at calming him down than Derek was. Even though they were still sniping at each other, the fighting was decreasing and in its place was a rhythm bred from familiarity. The Stilinskis complemented each other. 

Dr. Morrell was calm and friendly, giving nothing away as she asked her questions and did her tests. She didn’t give them any indication of her results until she finally asked, “Stiles, since the start of your pregnancy, would you say your physical contact with alphas has increased, decreased, or stayed about the same as before?”

“Decreased,” Stiles said.

Morrell nodded, making more notes on her sheet. “Stiles, omegas need contact with alphas, that’s a part of their biology. Contact can take a variety of forms as long as it's plentiful. When an omega is pregnant, that becomes even more important, as the need for physical touch increases. Studies have found that if an omega is not interacting with alphas enough, it can cause tiredness, fatigue, increased nausea, dizziness, and in time, other symptoms. If left unchecked, it can have severely negative effects on the baby.”

Stiles put a protective hand over his stomach. “Is the baby okay?”

“The baby's still fine,” Morrell assured him. “But a little on the small side. Still within a normal range for how far along you are, but I’d like to see some serious growing happening before our next visit. That means plenty of fluids, rest, and touch from alphas.” She tilted her head toward Derek and John. “That shouldn’t be too much of a problem since you have two in the room with you.”

“Right,” Stiles said, with a grimace. “Piece of cake.”

***

Talia had lemonade and sugar cookies on the table when they arrived, and she ushered them in quickly. “Sit down, sit down, tell me everything.”

Stiles gave her a play-by-play of the appointment and presented her with a copy of the latest ultrasound. Derek knew it would have a place of pride in the photo album with the ultrasounds of him, his siblings, cousins, nieces, and nephews.

“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t be getting enough contact, though,” Talia said. “Why not?”

Derek squirmed in his seat at his mother's sharp tone.

“We haven’t been getting along very well,” John said, putting a hand on his son’s shoulder. “We’ve always been very close. I didn’t realize how our fighting was affecting Stiles.”

“You're not the only alpha in the house,” Talia said, crossing her arms with a pointed look at Derek.

“Most alphas get contact from their mate.” Stiles paid very close attention to his cookie while he spoke. “I’ll just have to figure out another source.”

“Derek is your mate,” Talia said. “He is _the_ source.”

“Derek isn’t obligated to touch me,” Stiles insisted.

“Well, how else do you expect this to work?” Talia asked. “It’s challenging enough now, but when the baby actually gets here, you’ll need to support each other.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Derek said.

“But--”

“Mom, we’ll handle it,” Derek said more forcefully. He didn’t want to be reminded that this was not a temporary situation. Henry was having no luck finding a way out of this mess, and regardless, Derek had a child to consider. He didn’t need his mother pushing him onto Stiles, adding even more stress to both of them. 

“I just think you need to make the best of the situation,” Talia said.

“We will,” Derek said, brushing her off.

They stayed a little longer, but the conversation was stilted now, and Derek had lost his appetite.

John and Stiles spent the rest of the afternoon reading on the couch with Stiles’ bare feet pressed against John’s thigh. It must have helped because Stiles had enough energy to cook dinner for the first night in a week.

Scott came home starry-eyed with stories of Allison, the girl he’d been hired alongside. Laura’s fiancé was out of town, so she, Erica, and Boyd came upstairs for dinner.

“Oh, by the way,” Erica said, around another forkful of rice. “John, I have a couple of positions to fill in our security department, if you’re interested.”

“I certainly am,” John told her.

“The shifts are kind of all over the place. It’s mostly checking in visitors and making sure nobody is trespassing.” Erica explained. 

“How strenuous is that?” Stiles asked. “Are you sure you’d be up for it?”

“It’ll be fine,” John said. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

Stiles chewed at his lip. “Maybe we should wait until after your doctor's appointment, check with them first.” 

“Stiles, it will be good for him to get up and out of the house,” Melissa said. “If it turns out to be too strenuous, we’ll reconsider.” 

“Is that your professional opinion, Nurse McCall?” Erica teased. 

It didn’t elicit the response they expected. Melissa usually smiled at Erica’s ribbing, but today she sighed heavily.

“What’s wrong, Mom?” Scott asked.

“I just don’t know if ‘nurse’ McCall makes sense anymore,” Melissa said. “Even with the courses I’m exempt from, it will take at least two years of classes for me to have the qualifications to work in the US. If I became a PSW instead, it would only be 6 months if I did the fast track program over the summer.”

“But Mom, you’re a great nurse,” Scott said. “PSWs are fine, but that’s not what you do.”

Melissa shrugged. “I didn’t before, but things are different now. How can I justify taking three years of school while you’re working? It should be you getting an education, not me.”

Scott waved her off. “Mom, I’ve got lots of time. Even if we had the money for school right now, I have no idea what I’d do. I’ll have plenty of time to decide while you’re re-training.”

Melissa still frowned. “I’m practically starting from scratch. All my experience from Estlovia means nothing here. It would be different if we were back home, I mean, I’d still have my old job.”

Derek felt more than saw Stiles cringe beside him and heard him murmur “I’m sorry” in Estlovian again. Derek hated it.

“It’s fine, Stiles.” Melissa reached over to squeeze his hand. “This isn’t the first time I’ve replanted my roots. It’s thanks to you that I could make my home in Estlovia.”

“What do you mean?” Laura asked.

“When Scott was five, my husband decided to quit his job in Cachorro and move us to Estlovia for a business venture,” Melissa explained. “Within a few months, the venture failed, if it ever really existed to begin with. Raf left the country, and this time, he didn’t take us with him.”

“We didn’t need him,” Scott said fiercely.

“His absence was for the best, but when he first left…” Melissa shrugged. “Estlovia is not very forward thinking. I could work because I’m a beta, but people shunned us. They thought a mother had no business raising a son alone, but it wasn’t like I had a choice. There was no one to help me.” A soft smile changed her face. “Except Claudia.”

“Who’s that?” Erica asked.

“Stiles’ mother,” John said quietly.

“Scott and Stiles met at school and were fast friends,” Melissa shared, smiling at the memory. “I guess Scott had told Stiles about his father leaving, and it didn’t take long for Stiles to tell Claudia. Within a couple of days, she marched up to me and introduced herself, started making plans for how she could help. Within a few months, we were officially pack. I don’t know what I would have done without her. She was my greatest friend when I needed someone most.”

“You more than returned the favour,” John said. “Without you, her illness…we couldn’t have managed. I _didn’t_ manage.”

Melissa patted his arm. “That’s what pack is for.”

Derek considered the Stilinskis and McCalls a unit, but he hadn’t really considered them pack in the same way his family was. He realized now that they were found family, not blood, and that was just as strong a connection.

“Melissa, you’re a fantastic nurse,” Stiles said. “It would be such a waste if you stopped.”

Melissa gave him a sad smile. “I know, but the cost…”

“We can afford it.” Derek bit his tongue briefly, after speaking, then decided to hell with it. “The pack can supply your tuition.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Melissa said. “It’s too expensive, Derek.”

“You didn’t ask,” Derek pointed out. “Besides, it’ll be a tax break. It will probably work out in our favour.”

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” Melissa chided.

“I doubt it,” Laura said. “We could ask Lydia to come over sometime. She can break it down for you.”

“In the meantime, focus on class,” Derek said. “I’m sure some of it is old hat for you, though.”

“Some, yes,” Melissa nodded. “Some of the information is so new it’s terrifying. Being surrounded by all those perky 18 year olds doesn’t help.”

John scoffed. “By the end of the semester, they’ll be trailing after you like ducks.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Stiles said with a smirk.

The meal passed quickly with the story of the ducklings Stiles and Scott had found in their youth that had taken to Melissa like...Well, like ducks take to water. Derek could understand that well. Despite his best attempts to ignore Melissa, he’d grown fond of her. She was just that kind of person, she made a person care because it was so clear that she cared about _them_.

He’d have Lydia over soon to prove to her it wouldn’t be a hardship to help her with the tuition, to make her feel better about it. At that point, he didn’t really mind the cost. They had funds to spare and Melissa was worth it. 

Derek wondered if he’d feel the same way if Scott decided on a career he wanted badly enough to go to college. Would Derek feel the same urge to help him? From there Derek’s thoughts turned to Stiles, as the always did. The baby would go to school eventually. Would Stiles want a career when they did, or would he be happy at home? Derek really didn’t know him well enough to guess.


	6. Chapter 6

***

After his mother’s scolding, Derek felt like he really should do his part in giving Stiles the _alpha contact_ he needed. He didn’t want his lingering resentment to impact the health of the baby. It wasn’t going to disappear overnight, but Derek could set it aside long enough to help.

Breakfast seemed like the perfect opportunity. The rest of the household’s schedules were filling quickly with work and classes, but none of them lined up with Derek’s so he and Stiles were always alone for breakfast.

After finishing the plate of scrambled eggs and toast Stiles had made him, Derek rounded the counter. “Come here a second.”

Stiles had been putting together a lunch for Melissa, so he set down the knife he was using and wiped his damp hands off on a towel before turning to Derek. “Yes?”

“I’m just going to--” Derek started. “Dr Morrell said--” He didn’t know what to say. It felt unnatural but it needed to be done. “I…” He gave up on words, and let his actions speak for themselves. He skimmed his hands up Stiles’ arms, perfunctory patted his shoulders, before sliding a hand over his growing abdomen. It was quick but thorough, as to the point as he could manage. “I’ll see you after work.”

“Right,” Stiles said, still standing rigidly in front of him.

“Bye.” Derek left for work ten minutes early.

He did this for three more mornings. He didn’t have to explain any further to Stiles, but he noticed he had an increasingly sour look every time Derek initiated the process. Stiles didn’t outright object but on the fourth morning, his sigh spoke volumes.

“What?” Derek asked tersely.

“Nothing,” Stiles mumbled.

“ _Nothing_ doesn’t produce a sigh like that.” Derek crossed his arms. “What?”

Stiles stared right back at him with a stubborn look, and Derek didn’t think he’d get an answer, but Derek had always been the champion of holding his tongue until he won out. “This isn’t helping,” Stiles finally blurted out.

“What do you mean?” Derek said, taken aback. “The doctor said--”

“I know what she said, I was there,” Stiles snapped. “But I don’t feel any better doing this. If anything, I feel worse.”

Derek’s stomach churned, his pride stung and heart sore. “I didn’t realize that I’m so abhorrent to you that--

Stiles growled in the back of his throat, rubbing his eyes. “You aren’t. Not at all. That isn’t what I meant, I just-- It makes me feel more lonely. Like you’re right there, and I still can’t get to you, can’t _feel_ anything from you, when I really just want to curl up inside of you and never leave.”

“Oh,” Derek said, then winced at how dumb he felt.

Stiles sighed again. “Look I don’t want to force you into doing anything you don’t want. I mean, I’ve already dragged you into enough. I can figure something else out.”

“Figure it out with me,” Derek said. He desperately wanted to be the solution to this. He wanted to provide for his child and the person carrying it. “It’s my baby, I-- I want to help.”

Stiles chewed at his lip, considering. “I liked it when you came to my room. It was a crazy day, but I felt…closer to you then. Even after you left. We weren’t even touching then, but maybe if we did, if you just came and we sat and talked and stuff? I think that would help more than this airport pat down we’ve got going on.”

Derek snorted at the term. It was uncomfortably accurate. “Alright. I have to go to work now, obviously, but…later?”

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles said, nodded a few times. He grabbed the lunch he’d packed and shoved it into Derek’s hands. “Have a good day.”

“Right. You too.” Derek hesitated, then leaned forward and brushed his nose against Stiles temple. “See you.”

***

The first time Derek came to Stiles’ room and sat on the bed with him, he felt just as stilted and out of place as he did in the kitchen. He was convinced that it wouldn’t work and was waiting to be told to leave. But Stiles was relaxed and just sleepy enough to tuck into him and start murmuring about his day, yawning around his anecdotes. The soft warmth of his body and his quiet voice made it easy for Derek to let his tension go and his hands wander.

Stiles was right, and it became an easy part of Derek’s night time routine to swing by Stiles’ room after brushing his teeth. They’d lie on the bed together, shoulders touching or hands linked and they'd just talk. It was easier somehow in the soft glow of Stiles’ bedside lamp to just be themselves, and their conversations reflected that. Sometimes it felt like they were back at the first night they met, and Derek got to learn more about the interesting young omega he’d found so enthralling.

Thinking about that night was what led him to ask, “Why me?”

“Hmm?” Stiles blinked up at him, hand still tracing the pocket on the chest of Derek’s sleep shirt.

“Why did you pick me, out of all the people in that bar?” Derek asked, emboldened by the cozy feel of the bed.

Stiles shrugged, averting his eyes.

“Come on,” Derek said, pushing up onto his elbows, to look at him properly. “You traveled four hours to be in that hotel bar. Of all the people in that room you could have picked to do this, why me?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles said.

“Bullshit,” Derek called. “You had a reason.”

Stiles sighed, and narrowed his eyes at Derek. “You really want to know?”

“Obviously,” Derek said, though a small part of him wasn’t really sure he did.

“Well, I chose that hotel for starters because it’s a very nice one that business men tend to stay at. I didn’t want someone who’d be pushed into debt from this whole thing. You had a watch on, and it looked nice enough to suggest you weren’t faking. I figured you’d have decent insurance for Dad, but I didn’t realize _just_ how rich you were.”

“You picked me by my watch?” Derek asked. If he recalled correctly, it had been a gift from his Uncle Peter. Flashier than his usual style, but by no means opulent.

“It was a factor,” Stiles agreed. “But not the sole decision. Your accent was another one. Clearly American. I was open to anywhere with a decent medical practice, but America is the land of possibilities, right?”

Derek snorted. “Sold on the American dream?”

“Something like that,” Stiles said. “You were alone, which made it easier. I really did want to know why you looked so sad.”

“I missed my pack,” Derek said, recalling the ache he’d felt that night. “I hate traveling.”

Stiles smiled a little. “Knowing now how you are with them, I can understand that.”

“Was that all?” Derek pressed. “I looked lonely?”

“You’d switched to water,” Stiles said. “After only one drink. That meant you weren’t drunk. I knew I was tricking you, I have no illusions about that, but I wasn’t going to take advantage of someone drunk out of their mind.”

Derek wrinkled his nose. “I can’t tell if that’s honorable or hypocritical.”

“Neither can I, so I don’t think about it,” Stiles said. “The fact that you showed interest at all, that’s a plus. I’m not exactly a catch.”

Derek snorted. “Sure, Stiles, whatever.”

Stiles gave him an odd look then, that Derek couldn’t read. “You want to know what really did it? The final tipping point to make me choose you?”

Derek nodded mutely.

“You were nice to the bartender,” Stiles said with a soft smile. “Not just the tip, but the way you spoke to her. Respectful. Like she was an equal.”

Derek frowned. “I didn’t do anything special, Stiles. Nothing out of the usual.”

“Exactly,” Stiles said. “There was no reason for you to be nice to her besides courtesy and habit. And I knew, even though you’d be angry or upset, you were a good person”

Derek stared at him in disbelief. “No, you didn’t. You can’t know that just from someone not treating a bartender like shit. I could have been an asshole. I _am_ an asshole, but I could have been worse. Abusive, even.”

Stiles sat up, intense and agitated. “If you think I wouldn’t spend the rest of my life with some fuckhead who treats me like dirt just so my dad could have a few more years of health, you are clearly not understanding why I did this.”

Derek thought that was true, but he was starting to understand. Starting to get why to Stiles, that was all there was to it.

“Why’d you leave?” Derek said quietly.

“You mean after?” Stiles said, carefully laying back down on the bed.

“Yeah,” Derek traced his finger between the moles on Stiles’ arm. “You knew we were going to see each other again, but you were gone before I woke up.”

Stiles nodded. “I wanted to stay. It felt horrible to leave, like ripping off a band-aid. Necessary, but wrong.”

“Why necessary?” Derek prodded. He’d felt even lonelier than he had in the hotel bar when he’d woken up to an empty room and sheets that still smelled like _them_ but had grown cold.

“Mostly because I had a train to catch. I needed to get home before my dad got back from work and realized I’d been gone.” Stiles’ hand tapped idly on Derek’s leg. “I also felt like shit for what I’d done. I…I didn’t think I deserved to stay and have you smile at me like that again.” He rolled over and looked at Derek directly. “Would it have changed anything? If I had stayed?”

Derek’s mind warred between the memories of the hotel room, and the feeling of betrayal that every memory of that night held. As soon as Derek had been served those papers, every single moment of it had been tainted. “I don’t know.” 

*** 

Another night, Derek asked, “How’d you know where to find me? We exchanged names, but not all the details that were on that court summons.”

“Your wallet,” Stiles said with a wince at Derek’s sharp look. “It was in your pants, easy enough to find. I copied down all the information on your licence.” He sat up abruptly. “I didn’t take anything. From your wallet, I mean. There was money in it, but I didn’t steal any.”

“You have the strangest moral code,” Derek told him. “You rifled through my wallet with the intention of using that information to shackle me to you, and you’re worried I’ll be upset if you took my money?”

Stiles flopped back onto the bed. “It’s different, okay? This was never about your money.”

Derek would think about their conversations for hours or even days after they took place. After weeks of talking together at night, their morning visits were less strained. It felt more natural to brush a hand over the nape of Stiles’ neck on the way to the coffee machine, or tap Stiles’ arm while he talked.

Derek started noticing that Stiles was usually already talking when he walked into the kitchen, but it took him a few days to realize why.

“Are you talking to the baby?” Derek asked.

Stiles startled a bit. “Oh. Yeah, I am.”

Derek grabbed a mug from the cupboard. “Can they even hear you?” 

“Not yet,” Stiles admitted. “Not until I’m at least 23 weeks along.” His pregnancy was progressing quickly, but he was still a month or two shy of that milestone. “But I wanted to practice. Did you know, before the baby is even born, they’ll be able to hear the difference between Estlovian and English?

“Really?” Derek snagged the sugar off the counter and took it to the coffee maker with him.

“They’ll pay attention to what I’m speaking,” Stiles said. “Of course, I speak Ukrainian, Russian, Polish, Spanish, and French too.”

“You do?” Derek had researched Estlovia when he came home and found out that they had three official languages, and the majority of people spoke at least some English, but that was far more than he’d expected.

“Yeah,” Stiles shrugged. “Once you know more than one, it’s easier to learn another. My French is pretty rusty, though, since I don’t get to use it as often. I’m going to try to teach the baby as many as possible. Their English will be so much better than mine, though.”

“You’re English is fine,” Derek said. Most times Stiles’ accent wasn’t noticeable, just a different lilt to the words.

“It’s fine, but it’s not the same as growing up here,” Stiles rubbed a hand over his stomach and smiled down at it. “There will be so much to learn. I want to give them so many opportunities. Like a clam.”

“A clam?” Derek echoed.

“Yeah, you know, _the world is your clam_ ,” Stiles said.

Derek laughed. “Oyster. The world is your oyster.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose. “See? Their English will be better.”

“Stiles, Stiles,” Scott called, racing down the stairs.

“What it is?” Stiles abandoned breakfast to meet him.

“Allison just texted me,” Scott said. “She asked if I wanted to get drinks after work. _Drinks_.”

“That’s great,” Stiles said, clapping Scott on the shoulder.

“Yeah except, what will I say? What if I’m boring?” Scott moaned.

“It’s just drinks, Scott,” Stiles said, ruffling his mop of hair.

“Non-alcoholic drinks,” Derek pointed out. “I don’t know how old Allison is, but legal drinking age in the US is 21.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose. “That’s so bizarre. As if anyone waits that long.”

Derek shrugged. “Yeah, but they still can’t serve you in bars. Scott, just order a coke or something, and relax. She clearly likes your company enough to ask to spend more time with you.”

“Yeah, you're right,” Scott said. “God, what will I wear?”

Derek’s breakfast was taken upstairs so he could watch Scott go through every single item of clothing in his closet deciding on what to wear before realizing he’d have to wear his uniform all day. That sent him into another spiral of indecision, and they decided he could bring a change of clothes with him, and if Allison changed, he could as well.

“Thanks, guys,” Scott said. “You’re gonna be great dads.”

Derek looked at Stiles, and felt a thrill, hoping the words were true.

*** 

Lydia arrived at the apartment as she usually did: like a storm taking over, with Jackson trailing behind.

“Miss me?” Lydia asked, dropping a heavy textbook and notepad on the coffee table before charging at Derek to hug him and kiss his cheek lightly enough not to leave a lipstick stain.

“Of course,” Derek said. “You too.” he told Jackson, because he knew it was important even if Jackson would never seek out their affection the way Lydia did. Jackson was the first pack member to be chosen by Laura instead of their mother. A chance for her to use the skills as pack alpha she’d learned while she still had Talia’s help and guidance. No one had really understood why she’d chosen Jackson, a brash and combative teenager. In the three years he’d been pack though, he’d grown a lot under the comfort of their pack, and his fierce drive and loyalty inspired the other pack members he’d gone to school with to shoot high in their ambitions.

Lydia had been part of the package. There was no Jackson without Lydia, and a Lydia-less world was bleak and boring.

“Jackson said you had numbers for me to crunch,” Lydia said.

“It’s nothing urgent,” Melissa said, wiping her hands with the dish towel she’d been using. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“It’s tuition and taxes, right?” Lydia asked. At Melissa’s nod she tsked. “I could do that in my sleep. You have the papers I asked for?”

Melissa provided the package she’d been given outlining the approximate fees she’d be facing, as well as her handwritten notes on what her textbooks and equipment would cost. Jackson set up the laptop they’d brought and Lydia set to work. Derek and Melissa joined her at the table, answering questions when needed.

John was reading in the livingroom, tired after pulling a 12 hour shift, and Scott took his mother’s place drying the dishes that Stiles washed. They finished quickly and Scott joined them at the table while Stiles wandered to the couch. 

Derek thought their nightly visits were improving Stiles’ health considerably, but not his disposition. He looked disappointed when they all left in the morning, and after dinner he always had a certain level of melancholy and restlessness about him. Derek had tried to enquire about it a few times, but Stiles just pasted on a smile and said everything was fine now that his father had a prescription for his heart. 

Derek got so absorbed in what they were doing with Lydia he forgot about the Stilinskis until John scolded, “Mieczyslaw, don’t touch that.”

“I’m just looking,” Stiles told him.

Ten minutes later, John said, “Looking does not involve pencils. Put it back.”

“What are you doing?” Lydia asked, eyes narrowed in their direction.

“Nothing,” John said quickly. “Stiles, put it back.”

Stiles glowered at his father. “It’s just a textbook, Dad, it’s not like I can break it.”

John snapped his book shut. “I have seen the way you wear out books and I’ve seen how much Melissa’s cost. Put it down.” 

Stiles deposited the textbook back on the table with a thump, letting the notebook and pen clatter down after it before flopping down on the couch.

Lydia rose from the table and picked up the notebook, reading over the page. “That was my class homework. It’s advanced calculus.”

“Okay.” Stiles voice was muffled by the couch cushions.

“Why the hell would anyone want to pick up a random textbook on advanced math,” Jackson asked.

“Because I’m bored,” Stiles burst out, pushing off the couch. “I’m so bored, my brain is numb. I can’t go anywhere, I don’t do anything. Most of my books got sold in Estlovia, and I miss them, okay?”

“We agreed to sell the books, there was no need to keep them when you finished school,” John said. 

“Yes, but I still miss them,” Stiles said. “I wasn’t done learning yet, Dad.”

“Well, you should have thought of that before--” John cut himself off. “We’re not fighting about this again. You made your choice.”

“I know that,” Stiles said. “And I’d make it again. That doesn’t mean I’m not bored out of my tree.”

“These are all right,” Lydia said, her eyes flicking between Stiles and the notebook still in her hand. “All your equations are right.”

“Of course they are,” Scott said. “Stiles is brilliant.”

“He is?” Jackson asked dubiously.

Scott smiled proudly. “Stiles was the top of our graduating class. Not just top omega, the _whole_ class. The alphas were pissed, especially when he got accepted to Oliviary.”

“What is that?” Jackson asked.

“The best university in Estlovia,” Scott said. “It’s a private institute, and it’s been there since before the civil war. All our best art and history is curated by Oliviary, and everybody knows the best minds of our country attend that school. It’s crazy expensive, but Stiles’ mom left him an education fund, and he got a scholarship for--”

“Scott, that’s enough,” John said. His anger was still there, but more than that, Derek thought he looked tired. “That may have been true before, but we live here now, and Stiles is going to be a parent soon. He’s not going to Oliviary. He’s not going anywhere now.”

“He could,” Lydia said. “If he can do numbers like these just for the fun of it, an American university would be lucky to have him.”

“It’s not that simple,” John said.

“Why not?” Lydia said, briskly. “Obviously there’s no point in starting with the baby on the way, but babies aren’t young forever. There are options for omegas now, part-time studies, and colleges that understand the concept of family planning.” 

“The finances--” John started and Lydia snorted.

“That’s why I’m here,” Lydia said. She strode back to the table to her laptop notes. “Derek alone could claim the entirety back on his taxes, The refund will more than cover the cost. Even on the off-chance that Derek couldn’t, this is a large pack. We can cover it. If Stiles’ grades are as high as Scott claims, scholarships will help, too. There’s nothing in his way, but his own ambition, and the bullshit social expectations your mother country has imposed on him.” 

John stared at her, and for the first time since Derek had met him, he could see something almost like hope in his eyes. “Hmm,” was all he said. Then again. “Hmm.”

Stiles was finally sitting up on the couch, so much less downtrodden than he’d always seemed, but hesitant. He looked at Derek with wide eyes. “Derek? You think I could?”

Derek nodded. Lydia knew better than he did what universities were looking for. All Derek knew was that he’d already come to terms with paying for Melissa and likely Scott. If it made Stiles smile like he was now, Derek would fork over his wallet to pay for that, too.

When Lydia and Jackson were long gone, Derek made his nightly trip to Stiles’ room, but he didn’t immediately join him on the bed like he usually did.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked.

“You didn’t tell me you were bored,” Derek said. “I had no idea.”

Stiles squirmed uncomfortably on the bed. “I didn’t want to bother you with it. It’s nothing you should have to be concerned about.”

“But I could have done something.” The pull of the familiar was too much, and Derek went to sit on the side of the bed. “Taken you somewhere, or gotten you some books. Hell, just borrowing my laptop you’d have the world at your fingertips, but you never asked.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked.

Derek shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know, but you can find anything on the internet these days.”

“We had internet at my school,” Stiles said. “It was nice, but it broke a lot.”

Derek stared at him for a moment. He remembered the shitty wifi he’d dealt with on his business trip. He’d assumed it was just the hotel’s fault he had a precarious connection. He got up and left the room immediately.

When he came back in, Stiles was crying. “What happened, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles sobbed. “I don’t want you to be mad. I don’t know what I said wrong.”

“What? Stiles, I’m not mad,” Derek said. “Why would you think that?”

“You left,” Stiles said, wiping his face furiously. “You left, and you didn’t even touch me. God, it doesn’t even matter, you don’t have to stay, I just-- I can’t stop.”

Derek crawled onto the bed and pulled Stiles into his lap. “I just went to grab my tablet to show you, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I shouldn’t be this upset,” Stiles said, sniffling into Derek’s shoulder. “I know that, and it hurts anyway.”

“When my Aunt Kylie was pregnant, she used to cry every time my Uncle Bry raised his voice. He watched a lot of sports,” Derek explained. “Every time a ref made a bad call, he’d start yelling and Kylie would be in tears, all the while telling him to fuck off and calm down.”

Stiles gave a wet laugh. “Pregnancy hormones are stupid.”

“Sure are,” Derek said. He rubbed circles on Stiles’ back. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you downtown. Show you all the things you and Scott wanted to look at when you first got here.”

“Yeah?” Stiles wiped his face. “That would be nice.”

“In the meantime,” Derek said, grabbing the tablet he’d let fall by the wayside. “Let me show you the world.”

“I like that song,” Stiles said, sniggering, and settled further against Derek.

It felt good to see Stiles excited and happy. But Derek was starting to think that feeling had less to do with their baby, and more to do with the omega himself.

***


	7. Chapter 7

***

Derek was supposed to be working, but he really wasn’t. He’d never been the type to skive off in favour of messing around on the internet, but he’d gotten distracted looking through the pictures of Stiles from the weekend. He’d looked so bright and happy, and Derek had started researching other places he could take him, since the museum had gone so well. He thought if he played his cards right, he could swing a trip to San Francisco soon.

His thoughts were interrupted when Peter and Henry came rushing through his office door.

“We’ve got it,” Peter announced. He had a gleeful grin on that Derek would be terrified of if he didn’t know his uncle so well.

“Got what?” Derek said, quickly exiting all the webpages he had open.

“The loophole,” Henry said with relish. He set his laptop down next to Derek’s computer and started pointing at the open legal document. “We can create a formal statement that you’ll provide for the child. You can guarantee that it will have enough omega influences in it’s life without its other parent. You have plenty of pack members that will help with that. Proving financial ability will be a piece of cake. You’ve got housing, employment, family bonds. We submit this and we're golden.”

Derek’s eyes jumped around the words but they didn’t make sense. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“We can keep the baby, and send the rest of the pack back to Estlovia,” Peter said. “You may have to agree to paying some transitionary fees, but we’ll keep it to a minimum.”

“Send them back,” Derek echoed. “They sold their house, Peter, there’s nothing to go back to.”

“They’ll buy a new one,” Peter said, looking at Derek with confusion. “Derek, come on, this is great news.”

“Right. Yeah,” Derek said, but he didn’t really feel like it. HIs stomach sank the more he thought about it and his head was starting to hurt.

“I can start preparing the paperwork right away,” Henry said. “We’ll want to get everything settled before the delivery date. It’s crucial we do this before the omega has a chance to bond with your child." 

Derek could clearly recall Stiles standing in his kitchen, rubbing circles on his stomach and murmuring affectionately. He could _see_ the bright look in Stiles’ eyes as he talked about all the things he would do with their child, _for_ their child, and the life he hoped they’d have. The life completely different from his own.

“Yeah, I just… I need some time to think about it,” Derek said.

“What the hell is there to think about?” Peter said crossly. “Derek, this is it. This is the way out.”

“I know,” Derek said. “Thank you for finding this, but I… I just need to process, okay?”

“It’s alright, Derek,” Henry said evenly, shooting Peter a quelling look. “There’s still time to get this sorted. I’ll get the papers together and you can decide what to do with them.”

“Right,” Derek said again. “Thank you, Henry.”

“Anytime,” Henry said squeezing his shoulder. 

Derek had always been intimidated by Dr. Deaton, even though he was a family friend, but he didn’t feel the same about the family lawyer. He had too many memories of Henry laughing with his father. It seemed like the two had always been laughing. It had made Derek want to laugh too, even though he didn’t know what the joke was. He wondered if he would have eventually understood if his father had lived long enough for Derek to join them. 

Derek barely accomplished any work for the rest of the day, but this time his thoughts weren’t nearly so carefree. When he finished work, instead of heading home, he drove to the beach and sat watching the water, just thinking about the choice he had to make. 

Was this what he wanted? When this whole mess began, he would have said yes, unquestionably, completely. Now he wasn’t so sure.

He liked coming home to the happy chatter of the pack, hearing Melissa talk with affection about the other students she was quickly taking under her wing, hear Scott enthuse about his day like he had spent it on an adventure and not on an assembly line. He liked reading next to John, having a steady presence without the need to fill the silence, just sit and _be_.

And Stiles.

His life was brighter with Stiles.

He liked the picture Stiles painted of their baby’s life, and that picture involved working together. He couldn’t imagine it on his own, not the way Stiles could. Not without Stiles in it. 

He wanted the partnership his parents had, and he could see it with Stiles. Not just with the baby, but the way they’d learned to talk now, about everything and nothing. He wanted to take Stiles so many places, and show him all the things he was missing in his tiny corner of the world. 

He also couldn’t help thinking of John. Stiles had given up on his own dreams to get his father somewhere that could treat his heart. He may not have done it in an ethical way, but the more they talked, the more Derek realized, as a young omega in Estlovia, he’d been backed into a corner. Any other choice he’d made, his father may have died before it would make any difference.

Deep in his heart, Derek knew if it had been own parents on the line and he’d seen no other way, he’d have done the same thing. 

If he sent the pack back to Estlovia, John wouldn’t have access to his medication anymore. Stiles would have thrown away his chance at a better life for nothing.

Derek could see what he wanted, the life he was picturing, but he was scared to reach for it. What if Stiles didn’t want it too? Would he be happier back in Estlovia if Derek could find a way to get John his medication?

A part of Derek felt guilty. Like he should still be angry about what was done to him. He _was_ angry, but not so much at Stiles now. Derek was mad at Estlovia, and the way it had backed its omegas into a corner so they had so few rights they had to resort to trapping foreigners, just for a chance at a better life.

Whatever choice Derek made, he needed to make it quickly. There was one chance to undo what had happened and still keep his baby. If he didn’t take it now, it wouldn’t come again.

***

Derek wasn’t certain that Stiles would even be awake still when he slipped into his room. All the lights were out, but there was a rustle of sheets when Derek approached, and a tired, “Hey.”

“Hi.” Derek sank down to sit on the bed, still too tense to lie down like he normally would. “Can we talk?”

The room was illuminated with a soft glow as Stiles switched on the bedside lamp. The warm gold casted over his skin, beautifully playing off his concerned features. “What’s wrong?”

Derek chewed over his words, unsure where to start. “Do you like me?”

“Like you? What do you mean do I--?” Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yes. Derek, I like you, I think you’re a good person.”

“But do you--” Too much to ask, too much to say, and not enough words to get there. “Do you think, if we’d met some other way, if your father wasn’t sick, and your country’s economy in the trash, do you think--?” Derek faltered again. 

“If things were different,” Stiles prompted, nodding like he understood, even though Derek wasn’t sure he was being clear enough.

He tried again anyway. “Do you think you would have still been interested?”

Stiles smiled a little. “Interested? Yes. Wouldn’t have thought you’d look twice at me, I mean, you’re gorgeous.” Derek scoffed and Stiles gave him a light shove. “No, I mean it. When I first saw you, I thought you were the most attractive person in the room. It’s why I took noticed. The more I noticed, the more I… Well, we’ve talked about that before, but I figured, the worst that could happen was that you’d turn me down.”

Derek nodded. They’d talked about why Stiles had chosen him out of a room full of people. They hadn’t talked about what that meant. “Do you think… If you had time, if we made a go of it…” Derek cursed his stumbling words and powered through. “Do you think you could ever love me?”

Stiles eyes widened in surprise, and he gave a soft, “oh.”

Derek’s stomach was roiling inside, but he let the question hang. He needed an answer.

“Yes,” Stiles said, then more surely, “Yes, I think I could.” He worried at his nail for a moment than asked, “Do you think you could ever forgive me?”

Derek had thought about that a lot too. “I think, for the most part, I already have. It’s hard to resent what you did when I _know_ you. I know why you did it, who it was for. I will admit there’s some lingering resentment, but with time, I think that will pass too.”

Stiles gave a shaky sigh. “Thank you for that.”

Derek took Stiles’ hand, smoothing his thumb over his wrist. “How would you feel if we tried…being together? Not just raising the baby together, but partners and…” 

“Mates?” Stiles offered. “Like, for real, not just on paper?”

“Yes,” Derek said, gearing up to lay out all his arguments in favour of it.

“I’d like that,” Stiles said. “Very much, yes, please.”

“Really?” Derek had not expected such a positive reaction. 

“I would love to try, Derek, and I understand if you change your mind, I’ll do what I can to give you space,” Stiles promised, though he didn’t look happy about that. “But, I’ve always wanted the kind of love my parents had and I think I could have that with you.”

“That’s what I want too,” Derek said, reaching out to cup Stiles’ cheek. “I want to build a life with you, not just dance around each other.”

Stiles’ eyes shone with that same brightness he got when he talked about the baby. “We could do that. We could do…so much together.” He scrambled up onto his knees then practically into Derek’s lap. He stopped just short of kissing him. “Do you want…?”

“Yeah.” Derek’s throat was rough with desire. The thin T-shirt Stiles slept in was plastered against his stomach, showing the evidence of the last time they’d done this. Derek couldn’t deny a primal part of him was turned on by it. The collar was stretched out, showing off the pale column of his neck, the smooth skin and dark dots peppering over it, and Derek already _knew_ the rest of him was just as supple and begging to be touched. 

Kissing Stiles felt like coming home. The warmth of a good welcome, and the contentment of knowing he was exactly where he belonged. One hand cradled the back of Stiles’ neck, while the other wrapped firmly around his waist, pulling him completely into his lap.

Stiles’ hands buried into his hair, and with just a tilt of their heads, the kiss went from quiet promise to a roaring passion. The taste of Stiles was just as intoxicating as it had been that night, if not more so. This time there was no uncertainty between them, the hesitancy of strangers long gone.

When the heat of desire could no longer be sated by just the taste of Stiles’ mouth, Derek stripped Stiles’ T-shirt off before tumbling him onto the bed. He licked at Stiles’ nipple, and Stiles bit off a shriek. Both of them stilled, listening for the stirrings of the rest of the house's occupants.

“Sorry,” Stiles whispered. “Sensitive.”

“Baby, you _never_ have to say sorry for something in bed,” Derek said, fiercely, remembering all the times he’d said it when they’d been together and Derek had no idea. “Especially not for something like that.”

Stiles nodded, biting his lip and looking unsure. “How about if you do it again, I promise to be quieter?”

Derek grinned. “I like that better.” He applied himself to the task of worshiping Stiles’ nipples while running his hands over his body, reveling in the feel of him. Stiles managed to keep his sounds to whimpers and low moans. 

Abandoning his task, Derek nipped at Stiles’ jaw, and whispered, “Someday soon, I’m going to take you somewhere that you can be as loud as you want. I’m going to drink in every single noise you make, and I won't leave until I’ve heard you scream my name.”

Stiles moaned in response, and wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist, pulling him in closer. “You have too many clothes on, Derek, I want to feel you.”

Undressing meant detangling from each other, which was not what either of them wanted, but after stripping them both, Derek had to admit it was worth it for the exquisite sensation of their bare skin sliding together was worth it.

Derek briefly considered delving his fingers into Stiles’ wet heat and opening him up, losing himself buried in his omega, but dismissed that. He’d want it again soon, but for tonight, he wanted something new, uncharted territory that had nothing in common with their first coupling except the want they felt for each other. “You think you can be quiet a bit longer?”

Stiles nodded eagerly. “Why?”

In lieu of answering, Derek levered himself up and repositioned himself between Stiles’ parted legs. His lapped a the head of his cock, savouring the taste of the precum that coated it, while Stiles moaned above him. 

It felt good to know he was the sole source of Stiles’ pleasure, to recognize the hitch of his breath when he sucked at the head, and be certain that pant was one of pleasure. The way Stiles’ fingers tangled and tugged at his hair urging his own.

Stiles’ moans turned to quiet babblings of “yes, yes, right there, just like that, Derek _please_.” Derek doubted Stiles would be able to stay quiet for long, so he doubled his efforts to make him come before he woke the whole house.

A single finger pressing into him combined with a well-timed suck was all it took to coax an orgasm out of him, come splattering over Derek’s chin and chest. 

Stiles went limp beneath him, and Derek nuzzled his way back up to cover his body with his own, seeking his own orgasm by rubbing off against Stiles’ hip.

Sated and pliant as he was, Stiles squeezed Derek’s ass and murmured, “Come on,” until he too lost himself in pleasure.

He knew he should probably get up and wipe them both off, but the threat of sticky skin didn’t rate higher than the joy of snuggling against Stiles and drifting off to sleep. They’d take care of the rest in the morning. There was lots of time. 

***

Breakfast was one of the few consistent times that Derek and Stiles were alone together. The rest of their household was either sleeping or already out of the house when they ate. Derek used to dread having to sit in awkward silence while Stiles watched him eat and tried not to hurl. Now he looked forward to it. Just seeing Stiles, talking about the day ahead, set him up right before work.

Weekends like this were better because Derek didn’t have to watch the clock. He was _helping_ Stiles make an omelette, if eating the ingredients and cuddling up against him at every opportunity could be called _helping_. 

Derek was a notorious early riser, and his sisters were not, so he was surprised when a text from Cora arrived.

_Are you awake? Are you home? Can I come up?_

Derek responded affirmatively immediately before relaying the message to Stiles.

“Isn’t she at school?” Stiles asked, already getting more eggs out to include her in the meal.

“Yeah, I thought so. Perks of having a campus close by, I guess. Home is only a couple hours away.” Derek snagged another piece of green pepper off the cutting board as Stiles half-heartedly batted him away. They cooked as they waited for Cora to make her way up to their floor.

It didn’t take long, and as soon as Cora was through the door, Derek had his arms full of sister. “What’s wrong, Cora?”

“Nothing,” she muttered against his shoulder, sniffing at his shirt. “Everything is fine, I just...I miss home, and I miss my pack, and my dorm smells like strangers and I just wanted to be back with all of you but I left so late at night by the time I got here, everyone was still asleep.”

“We’re not sleeping now,” Derek said. “You want an omelette?”

“Okay.” Cora’s response was still muffled by his shirt, but when Derek looked up at Stiles, he waived his spatula toward the couch and poured the eggs into the pan.

“Come sit with me,” Derek said. He and Cora sat on the couch together and she told him all about her classes, her campus, and the people she was meeting.

“It’s good, you know?” She said, her eyes a little wet. “It’s just that I miss everyone so much. I always want to be home.”

“I get it,” Derek said. “Really. You remember how many weekends I came home when I was in school?” Cora shook her head. “A lot. Nearly every week. I hadn’t planned on it, I just realized it was what I needed. School is a lot of pressure in so many ways, and if the support you need is here, so be it, that’s why mom sent a car with you.”

Cora nodded. He could see there was more she wanted to say but he didn’t want to push.

Stiles set their plates on the coffee table and turned to leave, then hesitated. “You probably don’t care, but when we came here from Estlovia...The transition was hard, and even though I knew I wanted to be here, I kept thinking of home. Little things like the way it smelled or if the cornfield by our house had been harvested yet.”

Cora smiled a little and nodded.

Stiles grinned in return then sobered. “I missed my mom a lot too. She’s been gone for years, but with everything we did, I just wanted to tell her so much. Hear what she’d say, and get her advice, but more just talk to her. Because I always told her about important things like that.

Cora’s sniffles immediately became full blown tears. “I miss Dad so much.”

“Oh, Cora.” Derek hugged her again, and grabbed a tissue from the end table. “Cor.”

“I know it’s been years, but he should be here, you know? It’s not fair that I’m learning all these things and I can’t tell him about it.” Cora blew her nose noisily. “It’s not fair.”

Stiles sat on the couch next to him. “I know exactly what you mean. People don’t really understand why I’m so protective of my dad, but really, what would I do without him? At least when I still have him, still have family, I still have someone to share things with. Sometimes we'll talk about my mom. What she would have thought or said about something.”

“What would she have said about the move?” Cora asked.

Stiles considered for a moment. “She’d have said it was a wonderful adventure. Then she would insist we go to all of the most cheesy tourist spots when we got here. Oh! We’d have taken her to the beach. She’d love to go to a California beach. I bet she’d have wiggled her toes in the sand and laughed. Her laugh would sound so pretty with the water.”

“That sounds nice,” Cora said, wiping her eyes on her shirt. “I bet Dad would say my Plant Anatomy professor was full of shit.”

They all laughed and Derek could just hear his father saying that. “He’d have a thing or two to say about your roommate too.” 

“He would,” Cora said, smiling now. “I know he would.” 

They lapsed into silence for a moment before Stiles said, “You know you can come over here whenever you want right? If you want to spend time with Derek, the door's always open.” They’d never really talked about it, but Derek was fairly certain Stiles knew his family used to visit much more frequently before he’d come.

“I’d like that,” Cora said. “I’ll want to visit the baby too.”

“Of course.” Stiles grinned fondly at his baby bump. “They’ll need all the playmates they can get.”

Cora looked at him thoughtfully. “You know, you’re not completely awful.” 

Stiles snorted. “From you, I’ll consider that high praise.”

“As you should,” Cora said with snobbish nod. She poked her omelette sadly. “We let them get cold and mushy.”

“Eh.” Stiles popped up from the couch. “Half the fun is making them. Let’s start again.”

Cora followed him into the kitchen and Derek was happy to see them do just that. Start again. 

***

When he came home from work, Derek expected to find Stiles in the same condition he left him: Happy and full of excitement at the prospect of their future together. Instead, he could hear the rising hysteria in his raised voice before he even got into the apartment.

Stiles was shouting, mostly in Estlovian, but jumbled English bled through. “You can’t do this, you can’t. It’s my baby, _mine_ , you can’t.”

“You may be carrying the child, but legally, you gave no leg to stand on.” Peter sat on the couch, the picture of cool composure in the face of Stiles’ distress. “You have no education, and virtually no rights in your own country when it comes to property and custody. You can’t go to court yourself anyway. You’d need an alpha. Even if your father agreed, you wouldn’t win. Don’t put the child through a fruitless legal battle, just sign the paper and be done with it.”

Derek caught sight of the papers spread over the table, and his stomach churned at the realization of what they were. “Peter, what are you doing?”

Stiles spun at the sound of his voice. In two strides, he reached Derek and shoved him hard with all of his might, little as it was. “You bastard. You fucking _bastard_. How could you do this? Why the hell did you even come near me like that if you wanted this?”

“I didn’t. I don’t.” Derek grabbed Stiles’ hands to keep them from clawing at him with blunt nails.

Stiles only got angrier. “You _liar_. You lied to me. Every single word out of your mouth that night and since was bullshit. Was it some kind of punishment? Just one last thing to get even before you get rid of me?”

“No, no, no.” Derek had to struggle to keep hold of him, more scared he’d hurt himself than Derek at that point. “I meant every word I said, please just let me explain.”

“Peter said--” Stiles breath hitched and shuddered under Derek’s hands. “Don’t send me away, Derek. Don’t take my baby.” 

“I won’t. I’m not.” Derek cupped Stiles’ face in his hands. “Peter and Henry just told me what they’d found yesterday. I thought about it all day, and then I came home to talk to you. I’d already decided I didn’t want to do it. Even if you’d told me you didn’t want to be together, I wouldn’t have sent you away. I want you here, I want the life we talked about. I want it with you.”

Stiles wasn’t fighting him anymore, but he still looked unsure. “Peter was very clear.”

“That’s a change,” Derek said, shooting a glare at his uncle.

Peter got up from the couch to put a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Derek, I don’t want to see you locked into something so life changing. I should have given you more information before we even went on that trip, and shouldn’t have left you alone there. I feel partly responsible for this mess and I want to help fix it.”

“Well then, maybe you should have been there for my meeting with Henry today,” Derek said. “If you had been, you’d know I don’t want to send Stiles away, in fact, I want to do the opposite. I’ve asked him to investigate what it would take to get Stiles and his pack citizenship without it being tied to me.”

“What?” Stiles was still looking shellshocked, and Derek ushered him over to sit down. 

“Why would you do that?” Peter asked. 

“It gives us both more choices,” Derek told Stiles, then he turned to him, kneeling in front of him. “I want this to work between us, but I don’t want you trapped with me because the only alternative is going back to Estlovia. I want to know you’re with me because you love me, not because of your father or the baby, and no matter what we do, if your citizenship is dependent on me, it will always be in the back of my mind.”

“I can understand that,” Stiles said. “But how do you think you’ll fix that?”

“Henry will help you apply for citizenship. You, Scott, Melissa and John,” Derek explained. “Then if our relationship doesn’t work out, you can stay in California with them and the baby. You won’t have to worry about being sent back, not ever.”

Stiles started to smile as he fully wrapped his mind around the plan. “You’ll be free to leave without Dad losing his medication.”

“Exactly,” Derek felt a bit of unease at that. “At this point, I really don’t think I’ll want to, but…

“But you’ll have the choice,” Stiles said, truly excited now. “We’ll all have the choice.”

Derek cleared his throat. “If you had the choice, I mean, if you wanted to leave…”

“No,” Stiles said quickly. “I want to be with you, I just… I like knowing you aren’t stuck with me.”

“Me too,” Derek cupped Stiles’ cheek and rubbed his nose against Stiles’ temple. “I don’t ever want you to be backed into a corner like that again.”

“Well, as touching as this is, I should go.” Peter began collecting the papers spread out on the coffee table. “Sorry to upset you, Stiles, but...well. I’ll be in touch with Henry to offer my assistance.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes in Peter’s direction. “You’re an asshole,” he said plainly. “But you always seem to be fighting for Derek. I might not like how you go about it, but I can’t disagree with the goal.”

Peter sighed and squeezed Derek’s shoulder. “I do have your best interests at heart. Please, take care.”

“Thanks.” Derek’s family was loud and abrasive, and overbearing when they thought they knew what was best. Derek wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the changed chapter count to reflect the epilogue!


	8. Epilogue

Staying late was never Derek’s favourite thing, but he’d been needed for an important contract, and two hours here or there weren’t the end of the world. He was grateful to finally get home and hang up his jacket. “Hey,” he called out.

“Daddy’s home!” Stiles shouted gleefully from the kitchen. Jamie shouted too, a singsong of syllables that almost matched what Stiles said, but not quite.

“He’s getting closer,” Derek said. He dropped a kiss on Stiles’ cheek, then hesitated when he went to do the same to Jamie in the high chair next to him. His son was covered in red pasta sauce from head to toe. He decided he didn’t really care and kissed him anyway. He was rewarded with a sauce-covered hand in his beard. “Hi, J.”

“Any day now,” Stiles said. “He’s almost got your name down, I know it. Because you’re a smart boy, aren’t you, Jamie? You sure are.” 

Jamie smacked his hands on his tray and sang a long stream of gibberish. 

“You got a letter today,” Derek said, setting the large white envelope on the table far from Jamie’s saucy hands. “Looks important.”

“Yeah?” Stiles ruffled their son’s hair on the way by as he fixed a plate of spaghetti for Derek to join them, then washed his hands. “I should probably wait until after dinner to open it.”

“Don’t you dare,” Derek said, squeezing him around the waist and nuzzling his neck. “I want to see it.”

“Me too,” Stiles said, dropping his feigned ambivalence, he dived for the envelope and tore it open. “Congratulations, Mieczyslaw Stilinski-Hale, we are pleased to offer you admission to our Civil and Environmental Engineering program.” Stiles crushed the letter to his chest. “God, they used my real name, that’s going to give my professors a hell of a hard time.” He did a little happy dance, then leaned down to boop Jamie’s nose. “You hear that baby? Tata’s going to school.”

Jamie clapped and shouted, feeding off his dad’s excitement even though he didn’t understand the words.

“Congratulations, baby,” Derek said. They’d already known he’d been accepted, since the majority of the application process was online, but it felt so much more real to have it there in black and white.

Stiles wrapped himself around Derek, snuggling into him. “You really think it’s okay? It’s not too soon?”

“Babe, we already talked about this,” Derek said. “Your dad is ready to retire anyway. He’s excited about looking after Jamie. They’re going to get along fine, and you’ll still be with him when you get home. If it’s too much, we can reduce your course load. It’s not a rush.” He tipped Stiles’ face up to look at him. “If you want to wait, I’ll support you, but baby, you’ve worked so hard for this.”

“I know,” Stiles agreed. “I know he’ll be fine with Dad, but everywhere you look, people say you're a bad parent if you leave your child at home.” 

Derek looked pointedly at where Jamie was happily smearing his fingers through the noodles on his highchair tray. “Stiles. You’ve done everything you can for our baby, and he couldn’t be happier. That won’t change just because you’re also doing something for yourself. Don’t you think he’ll benefit from having a smart daddy?”

Stiles laughed. “He already has _two_ smart daddies, one of them just doesn’t have a degree.”

“Alright, then won’t he benefit from seeing his omega daddy with a CalTech degree?” Derek asked. They’d spent hours talking about this, discussing how important it was to them that Jamie grew up knowing omegas were smart and strong and capable, whether he presented as one himself or not. “If this isn’t a good fit for you, that’s fine, but don’t hold yourself back for us.”

Stiles blew out a breath. “You’re right. I want this, Der, I want it so bad.”

Jamie banged on his tray and shouted for their attention. 

“How did he get spaghetti sauce on his toes?” Derek asked. 

Stiles shrugged. “He’s a kid of many talents. Also flexible.”

“And in need of a bath,” Derek said.

“All in good time, my dear,” Stiles said flippantly. “We’ve got more messes to make first.”

Derek smiled. He was looking forward to it. 

*********


End file.
